JEX 


The  Mansion  of  Mystery 


THE  MANSION  OF 
MYSTERY 

Being  a  Certain  Case  of  Importance,  Taken 

frotn  the  Note-book  of  Adam  Adams, 

Investigator  and  Detective 


BY 

CHESTER  K.  STEELE 

AUTHOR  OF    "  THE  UISAPPEARANCE  Of  JOKH  DARF.  " 


INTERNATIONAL   FICTION  LIBRARY 
CLEVELAND  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  ion,  by 
GJPPLES  &  LEON  COMPANY 


Tint  MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 


PRBS6  OF 

TWB  COMMERCIAL  BOOKBINDING 
CLEVELAND 


THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   STORY   OF  A  DOUBLE  TRAGEDY 

THE  young  man  was  evidently  in  a  tremen- 
dous hurry,  and  as  soon  as  the  ferryboat  bumped 
into  the  slip  he  was  at  the  gate  and  was  the  first 
one  ashore.  He  beckoned  to  one  of  the  alert 
taxicabmen,  and  without  waiting  to  have  the 
vehicle  brought  to  him,  ran  to  it  and  leaped 
inside. 

"Do  you  know  where  the  Vanderslip  Building 
is?"  he  questioned  abruptly. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  take  me  there  with  all  possible  speed." 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  door  slammed,  the  taxi  driver  mounted  to 
his  seat,  and  off  the  taxi  started  at  the  best  rate 
of  speed  the  driver  could  attain.  The  young  man 
sank  down  among  the  cushions  and  buried  his 
chin  in  his  hands. 

1 


213304S 


2  THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

His  face,  normally  a  handsome  one,  was  now 
wrinkled  with  care,  his  hair  was  disheveled,  and 
he  looked  as  if  he  had  lost  much  sleep.  At  times 
his  mouth  twitched  nervously  and  he  clenched  his 
fists  in  a  passion  which  availed  him  nothing. 

"To  think  that  she  is  guilty!"  he  muttered. 
"It  is  horrible!  Horrible!"  And  then  his  whole 
frame  shook  as  if  with  the  ague.  Twice  he  started 
up,  to  see  if  he  had  not  yet  arrived  at  his  destina- 
tion. But  the  drive  was  a  long  one,  and  to  him, 
in  his  keen  anxiety,  it  appeared  an  age. 

"If  he  is  away — out  of  town — in  Europe,  or  on 
some  case  which  he  cannot  leave,  what  am  I  to 
do  ?"  he  murmured.  "I've  pinned  my  whole  faith 
on  him." 

Presently  there  was  a  jar,  and  the  taxicab  came 
to  a  halt  in  front  of  a  large  office  building.  The 
young  man  gave  one  look,  and,  before  the  driver 
could  get  down,  had  the  door  open  and  was 
on  the  pavement.  "Here  you  are,"  he  said  and 
thrust  a  dollar  bill  into  the  fellow's  hand.  Then 
he  crossed  the  broad  pavement  and  was  lost  to 
sight  in  the  corridor  beyond. 

"In  a  hurry  and  no  mistake,  and  looks  a  heap 
worried,  too,"  was  the  chauffeur's  comment. 
"Well,  I'm  a  quarter  ahead  on  that  fare." 

For  a  moment  the  young  man  studied  the  di- 
rectory on  the  corridor  wall.  Then  he  entered 


STORY  OF  A  DOUBLE  TRAGEDY    3 

an  elevator  and  alighted  at  the  eighth  floor.  He 
walked  down  a  side  hall  until  he  came  to  a  door 
upon  the  glass  of  which  was  inscribed  the  name 

Adam  Adams 

"This  must  be  the  place,"  he  murmured,  and 
opening  the  door  he  entered  the  office,  to  find 
himself  in  a  plain  but  neatly  furnished  apartment, 
containing  several  chairs,  and  a  flat-top  desk,  at 
which  a  young  lady  was  writing. 

"Is  Mr.  Adams  in?"  he  asked,  as  the  young 
lady  arose  to  meet  him. 

"What  name,  please?"  was  the  counter  ques- 
tion, and  the  young  lady  gave  the  visitor  a  keen 
glance. 

"Raymond  Case."  The  young  man  brought 
forth  his  card.  "Tell  Mr.  Adams  I  am  the  son 
of  the  late  Wilbur  Case,  and  wish  to  see  him  on 
important  business." 

The  young  lady  disappeared  through  a  door 
leading  to  an  inner  apartment.  From  this  she 
entered  another  apartment,  much  larger,  and 
overlooking  the  little  city  park  far  below.  The 
room  was  filled  with  books  and  pictures,  and  some 
wall  brackets  contained  several  bits  of  finely- 
carved  statuary.  There  was  one  large  roller-top 
desk  and  three  comfortable  leather  chairs. 


4  THE    MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

At  the  desk  sat  a  man  of  uncertain  age,  with 
a  strong  face,  a  somewhat  bald  head,  and  eyes 
that  were  neither  light  nor  dark.  The  man  was 
of  ordinary  height,  but  muscular  to  a  surprising 
degree.  His  face  showed  a  high  order  of  intelli- 
gence and  his  mouth  a  determination  not  easily 
thrust  aside. 

"A  gentleman  to  see  you/'  said  the  young  lady. 
She  placed  the  card  before  him.  "He  told  me 
to  tell  you  that  he  is  the  son  of  the  late  Wilbur 
Case,  and  wishes  to  see  you  on  important 
business." 

The  man  at  the  desk  drew  a  long  breath  and 
looked  up  from  a  slip  of  paper  which  he  had  been 
studying  through  a  microscope.  "Raymond  Case, 
eh?  All  right,  Letty,  show  him  in." 

In  another  moment  the  visitor  was  in  the 
private  office.  Adam  Adams  arose  and  gave  him 
a  warm  handshake. 

"Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Case,"  he  said  cor- 
dially. "I  knew  your  late  father  quite  well — a 
fine  man — a  very  fine  man,  indeed.  Have  a  chair 
and  make  yourself  at  home."  He  noted  that  his 
visitor  was  much  agitated  and  flushed.  "Sit  down 
by  the  window;  there  is  a  nice  breeze  there  from 
across  the  park." 

"Mr.  Adams,  I  would  like  to  see  you  in 
private,"  returned  the  young  man,  as  he  took  a 


STORY  OF  A  DOUBL^  TRAGEDY    5 

seat  and  mopped  his  forehead  with  his  handker- 
chief. 

"Very  well,"  and  the  office  door  was  carefully 
closed.  Then  came  a  brief  pause,  during  which 
Raymond  Case  cleared  his  throat  several  times. 

"Mr.  Adams,  you  do  not  know  much  about 
me,  but  I  know  a  great  deal  about  you,"  he  com- 
menced. "Three  or  four  years  ago  you  recov- 
ered some  stolen  mining  shares  for  my  father,  and 
last  year  you  cleared  up  the  Sandford  mystery, 
after  the  police  and  the  other  detectives  had 
failed  completely." 

Adam  Adams  bowed.  He  rarely  spoke  unless 
there  was  occasion  for  it. 

"May  I  ask  if  you  are  now  at  liberty?"  pur- 
sued the  young  man. 

"At  liberty?  Bless  you,  no!  I  have  half  a 
dozen  cases  on  hand.  Two  here  in  the  city — one 
over  in  New  Jersey — one  in  Yonkers,  and " 

"But  you  will  undertake  a  case  for  me,  if  I 
pay  you  well  for  it,  won't  you?"  interrupted  the 
young  man  eagerly.  "Don't  say  no — please 
don't!"  And  there  was  a  ring  of  agony  in  his 
speech.  "I  am  depending  upon  you!" 

The  detective  paused  before  replying,  and 
looked  the  young  man  over  with  care.  The  clean- 
cut  features  showed  not  a  sign  of  dissipation,  and 
the  expression  was  honesty  itself.  Certainly  the 


6  THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

young  man  had  not  gotten  into  trouble  on  his  own 
account. 

"I  should  want  to  know  something  about  the 
case  before  I  promised  to  do  anything." 

"Certainly — of  course "  The  young  man 

cleared  his  throat  again. 

"You  can  tell  me  what  the  trouble  is  and  if  I 
decline  to  take  the  case  I  will  give  you  my  promise 
not  to  say  a  word  to  any  outsider  of  what  has 
passed  between  us." 

"Oh,  I  know  I  can  trust  you,  Mr.  Adams, 
otherwise  I  should  not  have  called  here.  My 
father  said  you  were  the  squarest  man  he  had 
ever  dealt  with.  I  came  to  see  you  about  the 
Langmore  affair." 

"You  mean  the  murder  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barry 
Langmore  at  Beechwood  Hill?" 

"Yes." 

Adam  Adams  was  surprised,  although  he  did 
not  show  it.  What  had  this  rich  young  man,  who 
lived  in  Orange,  New  Jersey,  and  did  business 
in  Wall  Street,  to  do  with  that  double  tragedy 
which  had  so  shocked  the  community? 

"I  presume  you  know  some  of  the  particulars 
of  the  sad  affair,"  resumed  Raymond  Case.  "The 
newspapers  have  been  full  of  it." 

"I  know  that  the  pair  were  found  murdered. 


STORY  OF  A  DOUBLE  TRAGEDY    7 

I  have  not  looked  into  details,  being  so  busy  with 
other  matters." 

"It  was  an  outrageous  deed,  Mr.  Adams!" 
cried  the  young  man,  jumping  up  and  beginning 
to  pace  the  floor.  "One  of  the  foulest  of  which 
I  have  ever  heard." 

"A  murder  is  always  foul,  no  matter  under 
what  circumstances  it  is  committed.  What  do 
you  wish  me  to  do?" 

"Find  the  murderer." 

"That  may  not  be  easy.  Are  not  other  de- 
tectives already  working  on  the  case  ?" 

"Yes,  but  they  are  only  local  men  and  not 
worth  their  salt." 

"They  may  be  doing  all  that  can  be  done.  It 
is  a  mistake  to  presume  that  every  mystery  of  this 
sort  can  be  solved.  Here  in  New  York  men  go 
to  their  death  every  year  and  nobody  ever  finds 
out  how,  or  by  what  hand." 

"But  the  local  men  simply  jump  at  conclusions. 

They  are  a  set  of  blind  fools,  and "  The 

young  man  stopped  short. 

Adam  Adams  smiled  faintly.  He  knew  some- 
thing of  the  bungling  work  done  by  detectives  of 
small  caliber.  Had  he  not  himself  once  saved 
a  poor  Jew  from  hanging  after  several  country 
detectives  had  apparently  proved  the  fellow 


8  THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

guilty?  And  had  not  those  same  sleuths  of  the 
law  been  angry  at  him  ever  since? 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Case,  but  how.  is  it  that  you 
take  an  interest  in  this  affair?"  he  asked.  "Are 
you  related  to  the  Langmores  in  any  way?" 

"I  am  not."  The  young  man  began  to  blush. 
"Is  it  necessary  that  I  tell  you  why?"  he 
stammered. 

"It  is  not  necessary  for  you  to  tell  me  any- 
thing," responded  the  detective  dryly. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  say " 

"Let  me  give  you  a  word  of  advice.  Never 
try  to  get  a  detective  to  do  anything  for  you 
unless  you  are  willing  to  tell  him  all  you  know 
and  all  you  suspect.  It  is  generally  hard  enough 
to  solve  an  enigma  without  having  other  mysteries 
attached  to  it." 

The  young  man  lowered  his  face  and  looked 
confused  for  a  moment. 

"Then  I  will  tell  you  everything,"  he  said. 
"You  may  take  notes  if  you  wish." 

"It  is  not  necessary,  since  I  have  a  good 
memory." 

"The  Langmores  lived  just  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  town,  on  the  road  leading  to  Sidham,  which  is 
several  miles  distance." 

"I  have  a  general  idea  of  the  location." 

"The  house  is  a  fine,  old-fashioned  stone  man- 


STORY  OF  A  DOUBLE  TRAGEDY    9 

sion,  setting  well  back  from  the  road,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  well-kept  lawn  and  numerous  trees 
and  bushes.  At  the  rear  of  the  garden  is  a  small 
stream,  which  flows  into  the  river  a  mile  and  a 
half  Wow." 

"Is  the  place  surrounded  by  a  fence?" 

"On  two  sides  only.  In  the  front  there  is  a 
hedge  and  in  the  rear  the  little  stream  forms  the 
boundary  of  the  property." 

"I  understand." 

"At  the  time  of  the  tragedy  there  were  four 
persons  in  the  house,  so  far  as  known — Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Langmore,  Mr.  Langmore's  daughter,  Mar- 
garet, and  a  servant,  Mary  Billings." 

"Wait  a  moment.  You  said  Mr.  Langmore's 
daughter.  Was  she  not  Mrs.  Langmorers  daugh- 
ter also?" 

"No.  You  see  Mr.  Langmore  was  a  widower 
when  he  married  the  present  Mrs.  Langmore, 
who  was  a  widow.  There  are  two  sets  of  chil- 
dren." 

"I  understand.    When  did  the  tragedy  occur?" 

"At  some  time  between  eleven  and  twelve  in 
the  morning.  During  that  time  Margaret  Lang- 
more  was  in  her  room  writing  several  letters, 
and  was  practicing  on  the  piano  in  the  parlor. 
The  house  is  a  large  one,  with  sixteen  rooms  and 
several  hallways  and  stairs." 


10          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"Where  was  the  servant?" 

"In  the  kitchen  and  out  to  the  barn.  There 
are  two  other  girls,  but  one  is  in  the  hospital 
sick  and  the  other  was  to  town  on  an  errand." 

"Where  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Langmore?" 

"The  daughter  thought  her  stepmother  had 
gone  out  to  visit  a  neighbor,  as  she  had  said  some^ 
thing  about  doing  so  earlier  in  the  morning.  Mr. 
Langmore  had  gone  to  the  bank  in  town  at  nine 
o'clock  and  Margaret  saw  him  come  home  about 
half-past  ten  or  eleven." 

"What  was  she  doing  at  the  time?" 

"Practicing  on  the  piano.  She  heard  her  father 
go  directly  to  his  library,  which  is  situated  across 
the  hallway  from  the  parlor.  She  heard  the  door 
shut,  and  then  went  on  with  her  practicing." 

"Did  she  hear  anything  in  the  library?" 

"She  thinks  she  heard  something,  but  is  not 
sure.  She  was  practicing  a  very  difficult  piece  by 
Wagner " 

"And  it  was  loud  enough  to  drown  out  every 
other  sound." 

"That's  it.  When  the  clock  struck  twelve  she 
stopped  practicing  to  learn  if  lunch  was  ready. 
She  also  wanted  to  speak  to  her  father,  and  so 
crossed  the  hallway  and  opened  the  library  door." 
The  young  man's  voice  began  to  tremble  a  little. 


STORY  OF  A  DOUBLE  TRAGEDY    11 

"She  found  her  father  stretched  lifeless  in  an 
armchair." 

"How  had  he  been  killed?" 

"That  is  a  part  of  the  mystery.  He  was  either 
choked  or  smothered  to  death,  or  else  he  was 
poisoned.  The  doctors  don't  seem  to  be  able  to 
get  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

For  the  first  time  since  Raymond  Case  had 
begun  his  recital  Adam  Adams  began  to  show  an 
interest. 

"If  the  man  was  strangled  his  throat  should 
show  the  marks,"  he  observed. 

"There  are  no  marks,  and  the  doctors  have 
found  no  trace  of  poison." 

"Humph!"  The  detective  rubbed  his  chin  re- 
flectively. "What  next?" 

"Margaret  Langmore  was  so  horrified  she  ran 
from  the  room  screaming  wildly.  Her  shrieks 
brought  the  servant  to  the  spot,  and  a  minute  later 
two  of  the  neighbors,  Mrs.  Bardon  and  her  son 
Alfred,  came  over  from  next  door." 

"Where  was  Mrs.  Langmore  at  this  time?" 

"Nobody  knew.  Alfred  Bardon  is  a  physician, 
and,  thinking  there  might  still  be  a  spark  of  life 
in  Mr.  Langmore,  did  all  he  possibly  could  to 
resuscitate  the  gentleman.  The  servant  girl  ran 
upstairs  to  find  some  drugs  for  him  and  in  the 


IS          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

upper  hallway  stumbled  over  the  dead  body  of 
Mrs.  Langmore." 

"And  how  had  she  died?" 

"In  the  same  manner  as  her  husband.  This 
news  of  a  double  tragedy  was  too  much  for  Mar- 
garet, and  she  fainted.  The  others  notified  more 
of  the  neighbors  and  the  police,  and  of  course, 
the  news  spread  like  wildfire.  I  was  stopping  at 
the  Beechwood  Hotel  at  the  time  and  as  soon  as 
I  heard  of  the  tragedy,  I  jumped  into  an  auto- 
mobile that  was  handy  and  rode  over." 

"Then  you  arrived  at  the  house  about  as  soon 
as  the  police?" 

"A  little  before." 

"What  did  you  see?" 

"Just  what  I  have  told  you.  The  doctor  had 
been  trying  to  bring  Mr.  Langmore  around  but 
had  suddenly  been  taken  sick  and  could  do 
nothing." 

"Humph,  sick,  eh?  Did  he  say  what  made 
him  sick?" 

"He  did  not  know.  He  thought  it  might  be 
from  leaning  over  the  dead  man,  or  from  work- 
ing in  that  position.  I  think  the  sudden  sickness 
frightened  him  a  little." 

"When  the  police  arrived  what  did  they  find 
of  importance?" 

"Nothing." 


STORY  OF  A  DOUBLE  TRAGEDY    18 

"Had  anything  been  stolen?" 

"Nothing,  so  far  as  they  could  learn." 

"Of  course,  you  must  have  known  these  folks 
pretty  well  to  take  such  an  interest." 

"I  knew  Mr.  Langmore  very  well  and  I  was 
acquainted  with  his  wife." 

Adam  Adams  knit  his  brow  for  a  moment  and 
tapped  lightly  on  his  desk  with  his  forefinger. 

"Have  the  police  any  idea  as  to  how  the  mur- 
derer got  into  the  house  and  got  out  again?"  he 
asked. 

At  this  question  Raymond  Case's  face  flushed. 

"They  do  not  think  the  murderer  left  the 
house,"  he  answered  in  a  low  tone. 


CHAPTER  II 

LOVE    UNDER   A   SHADOW 

RAYMOND  CASE  dropped  back  into  his  chair 
and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  Adam  Adams 
eyed  him  curiously  and  with  something  of  a 
fatherly  glance. 

"It  is  plain  to  see  what  his  trouble  is,"  thought 
the  detective.  "He  is  in  love." 

He  was  right,  Raymond  Case  was  furiously, 
desperately,  hopelessly  in  love.  He  had  met 
Margaret  Langmore  at  Bar  Harbor  but  a  few 
short  weeks  before,  and  it  had  been  a  case  of  love 
at  first  sight  upon  both  sides.  A  few  automobile 
rides  and  a  few  dances,  and  he  had  proposed 
and  been  accepted,  and  he  had  counted  himself 
the  happiest  man  in  all  this  wide  world.  And 
now 

"Then  they  suspect  the  servant  girl?"  queried 
Adam  Adams,  knowing  they  did  nothing  of  the 
sort. 

"No!"  came  sharply.  "They  suspect  Mar- 
garet— Miss  Langmore." 

14 


LOVE   UNDER   A   SHADOW  15 

"Ah!" 

"Yes.  It  is — is  preposterous — absurd,  but 
they  insist.  And  that  is  what  has  brought  me 
to  you.  I  want  to  prove  her  innocence  to  the 
world:  Do  that,  and  you  can  name  your  own 
price,  Mr.  Adams." 

"You  have  a  high  regard  for  the  young  lady — 
you  are  close  friends?" 

"More.  I  may  as  well  tell  you,  though  so  far 
Margaret  and  I  have  kept  the  matter  more  or 
less  a  secret.  I  love  her  and  we  are  engaged 
to  be  married." 

"Did  Mr.  Langmore  know  of  his  daughter's 
engagement?" 

"He  did,  and  he  approved  of  it." 

"And  what  of  Mrs.  Langmore,  didn't  she  ap- 
prove?" 

"She  did  not  know  of  it.  Margaret  did  not 
tell  her." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because — well,  the  young  lady  and  her  step- 
mother did  not  get  along  very  well  together.  Mar- 
garet wanted  to  be  friendly,  but  Mrs.  Langmore 
was  very  dictatorial,  and  besides  she  loved  her 
own  children  better  than  Mr.  Langmore's." 

"Let  me  ask,  was  the  daughter  on  good  terms 
with  her  father?" 

"Yes,  excepting  on  one  point.     He  wished  her 


16          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

to  obey  her  stepmother  and  that  she  was  not 
always  willing  to  do.  This  brought  on  a  run 
of  petty  quarrels  which  fairly  made  Margaret 
sick." 

"And  this  is  the  reason  why  the  police  think 
Miss  Langmore  the  guilty  person?" 

"It  is.  Their  theory  is  that  she  first  quarrelled 
with  her  stepmother  and  murdered  her,  and  then 
struck  down  her  father  to  cover  her  guilt,  he 
having  discovered  what  she  was  doing." 

"How  old  is  Miss  Langmore?" 

"She  has  just  passed  her  twenty-third  birthday." 

"Humph!  Rather  young  to  commit  such  a 
cold-blooded  crime  as  this." 

"She  never  did  do  it — I'll  wager  my  life  on  it! 
Oh,  it's  absurd — insulting!  But  what  are  you 
going  to  do  with  a  lot  of  pig-headed  country 
police " 

"How  did  they  come  to  suspect  her?  Was 
there  nothing  else?" 

"Yes,  there  was.  Mrs.  Bardon,  the  woman 
who  lives  next  door,  is  a  great  gossip  and  one 
who  is  continually  poking  her  nose  into  other 
folks'  business.  She  told  the  police  that  she  was 
out  in  the  garden  cutting  a  bouquet  early  in  the 
morning,  and  she  heard  a  violent  quarrel  going 
on  at  the  breakfast  table  between  Mrs.  Lang- 


LOVE  UNDER  A   SHADOW  17 

more  and  Margaret,  and  that  Mr.  Langmore 
took  his  wife's  part.  Margaret  wished  to  give 
a  small  house  party  and  Mrs.  Langmore  would 
not  listen  to  it." 

"Did* Mrs.   Bardon  hear  all  that  was  said?" 

"No,  only  enough  to  make  her  run  to  the  police 
with  the  tale." 

"Is  any  other  house  near  by?" 

"The  Harrison  mansion,  but  it  is  locked  up, 
as  the  family  is  in  Europe." 

"Did  you  hear  if  Mrs.  Bardon  and  her  son 
were  home  all  morning?" 

"They  were,  excepting  when  the  doctor  went 
out  to  make  some  calls,  between  nine  and  eleven." 

"Did  they  see  any  suspicious  characters  around 
the  Langmore  mansion?" 

"Not  a  soul." 

"Did  Mary  Billings,  the  servant,  see  any- 
body?" 

"She  thinks  she  saw  somebody  near  the  river, 
but  she  is  not  sure;  in  fact,  she  is  so  scared  that 
she  is  all  mixed  up.  She  has  told  the  police  a 
thousand  times  that  she  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  crime." 

"Did  Miss  Langmore  see  anybody?" 

"She  saw  a  Doctor  Bird  pass  in  his  buggy  and 
a  farmer  named  Carboy  go  by  on  foot." 


18          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"When  was  this?" 

"While  she  was  at  the  piano.  She  doesn't 
know  the  exact  time." 

There  was  a  pause  and  the  detective  gave  a 
faraway  look  out  of  the  window  and  down  the 
bustling  thoroughfare. 

"So  far  as  you  are  aware,  Mr.  Case,  did  Mr. 
Langmore  have  any.  personal  enemies?" 

"I  never  heard  of  any." 

"He  was  rich?" 

"Yes." 

"What  was  his  business?" 

"He  was  a  dealer  in  patents  and  a  promoter. 
Some  thought  he  was  rather  eccentric,  but  I 
never  found  him  so.  He  used  to  have  an  office 
here  in  New  York  but  gave  that  up  a  year  ago." 

"Well,  what  is  your  idea  of  this  crime?" 

"I  haven't  any.  But  I  know  Margaret  Lang- 
more  is  not  guilty." 

"Evidently  if  they  suspect  her  they  have  con- 
cluded that  Mrs.  Langmore  was  killed  first." 

"That  is  their  idea,  but  it  looks  to  me  as  if 
both  were  killed  at  about  the  same  time,  although 
I  know  that  couldn't  very  well  be." 

"No,  not  if  one  was  upstairs  and  the  other 
down.  Do  you  think  it  possible  that  one  killed 
the  other  and  then  committed  suicide?" 


LOVE   UNDER  A   SHADOW  19 

At  this  Raymond  Case  started  back. 

"I  had  not  thought  of  that!"  he  cried.  "If  it 
is  true  then  that  clears  Margaret."  Evidently  he 
was  thinking  only  of  the  girl  he  loved — every- 
thing else  concerning  the  mystery  was  of  sec- 
ondary consideration. 

"Such  a  thing  is  possible,  although  not  prob- 
able, unless  the  two  had  a  bitter  quarrel  between 
themselves.  Every  crime  must  have  a  motive. 
People  do  not  commit  murder  unless  there  is  a 
reason  for  it  or  unless  they  are  insane.  Motives 
may  be  divided  into  three  classes — jealousy,  re- 
venge, or  gain.  In  this  instance  I  think  we  can 
throw  out  jealousy " 

"Mrs.  Langmore  was  jealous  of  Margaret." 

"And  wasn't  the  young  lady  jealous  of  her 
stepmother  in  a  way?" 

"But  she  is  not  guilty — I'll  stake  my  life  on 
her  innocence." 

"Then  let  us  come  down  to  revenge  or  gain. 
You  say  nothing  was  stolen.  Was  there  a  safe 
in  the  house?" 

"Yes,  and  it  is  closed,  and  will  remain  so  until 
the  experts  open  it." 

"Nobody  knew  the  combination  but  Mr.  Lang- 
more?" 

"That's  it.     Margaret  did  know,  but  her  step- 


20         THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

mother  had  her  father  change  the  combination 

and  keep  it  to  himself." 

"Had  he  much  money  in  the  house?" 

"I  think  not.     Margaret  says  her  father  was 

in  the  habit  of  depositing  cash  in  the  bank  as 

soon  as  he  received  it." 

"What  sort  of  promoting  did  he  do?" 

"He  organized  companies  to  manufacture  his 

patents.     He  also  speculated  in  real  estate  and  in 

mortgages.     He  owned  two  buildings  in  this  city 

and  several  in  the  country." 

"Who  are  the  other  members  of  the  family?" 
"Margaret's    married    sister,     Mrs.    Andrew 

Wetherby,    of   Sanhope,    and    Mrs.    Langmore's 

two  sons,  Tom  and  Dick  Ostrello." 
"Where  are  these  people  located?" 
"Mrs.  Wetherby  is  traveling  with  her  husband 

in  South  America.      The   Ostrello  brothers   are 

commercial    travelers    and    somewhere    on    the 

road." 

"Then  the  Ostrellos  are  not  rich?" 

"No,   they  are  poor,   and  Mrs.   Ostrello  was 

poor,  too,  before  she  married  Mr.  Langmore." 
There  was  another  pause. 
"Can  you  tell  me  anything  else?"  asked  Adam 

Adams. 

"Nothing  of  much   importance.      It's   a   deep 

mystery,   isn't  it?" 


LOVE  UNDER  A   SHADOW  21 

"Yes,  it's  very  simplicity  makes  it  deep."  The 
detective  drew  a  long  breath.  "I  was  thinking 
of  taking  a  vacation.  My  doctor  says  I  need  it." 

"Oh!"  There  was  a  world  of  disappointment 
in  the  word.  "Don't  say  that!  You  must  take 
hold  of  this.  I  planned  it  all  out  as  I  came  to 
town.  I  know  you  can  clear  Margaret  if  you 
will  only  try.  Think  of  her  position — the  dis- 
grace— my  position Oh,  you  can't  refuse  me, 

Mr.  Adams!"  The  young  man  came  closer  and 
caught  the  detective  by  the  shoulder.  "If  it's 
money,  set  your  price." 

"If  I  take  hold,  I'll  charge  you  only  what  is 
fair,  Mr.  Case.  But  I  never  take  a  case 
unless " 

"Any  request  you  have  to  make  is  already 
granted." 

"Unless  I  can  first  interview  the  person  who 
stands  accused  of  the  crime." 

"You  can  see  Miss  Langmore  at  any  time. 
I  told  her  that  I  was  coming  to  town  to  inter- 
view you,  and  that  I  would  bring  you  back  with 
me,  if  you  would  come.  I  told  her  what  a  won- 
derful man  you  were  and  what  you  had  done 
for  others.  I  think  it  cheered  her  a  little,  al- 
though she  was  terribly  cast  down." 

"You  must  not  promise  too  much  on  my  ac- 
count, young  man.  I  am  no  wizard,  and  I  cannot 


22          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

perform  the   impossible,   much  as   I  might  wish 
to  do  so." 

"But  you  will  come?" 

"Yes,  I  will  come." 

"At  once?"  cried  Raymond  Case  impatientlv. 

"At  once." 


CHAPTER  III 

MARGARET  LANGMORE 

As  RAYMOND  CASE  had  said,  the  Langmore 
mansion  was  a  large  one,  setting  in  the  midst  of 
an  extensive  lawn,  sprinkled  here  and  there  with 
maples  and  oaks  and  fine  flowering  bushes.  The 
hedge  in  front  was  well  kept  and  the  side  fences 
were  also  in  good  repair.  In  the  rear  was  a 
stable  and  also  an  automobile  shed,  for  the  late 
master  of  this  estate  had  been  fond  of  a  dash 
in  his  runabout  when  time  permitted.  Down  by 
the  brook,  back  of  the  stable,  was  a  tiny  wharf, 
where  a  boat  was  tied  up,  a  craft  which  Margaret 
Langmore  had  occasionally  taken  down  to  the 
river  for  a  row. 

The  mansion  now  looked  dark  and  lonesome, 
although  many  folks  passed  on  the  highway  and 
whispered  to  each  other  that  there  was  the  spot 
where  the  gruesome  tragedy  had  been  committed. 
"And  to  think  that  the  man's  own  daughter  did 
it,"  they  would  generally  add.  "Beats  all  how 
bloodthirsty  some  folks  can  get.  He  must  have 

23 


24          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

cut  her  short  on  money  or  something  and  she 
was  too  high-strung  to  stand  it." 

"No,  it  ain't  that,"  another  would  answer. 
"She's  been  flirting  around  with  a  certain  young 
man,  a  Wall  Street  gambler,  and  her  mother 
wouldn't  have  it  and  told  her  so.  That's  the 
real  trouble,  my  way  of  thinking." 

Inside  of  the  house  all  was  as  quiet  as  a  tomb 
save  for  the  ticking  of  the  long  clock  in  the  lower 
hall.  Below,  a  single  policeman  was  on  guard, 
in  company  with  a  woman,  who  had  been  sent 
in  to  help:  Upstairs  another  woman  was  sta- 
tioned, to  see  that  Margaret  Langmore  might 
not  take  it  upon  herself  to  leave  for  parts 
unknown. 

Margaret  sat  in  her  own  room,  in  the  wing 
on  the  second  floor,  a  dainty  apartment,  trimmed 
in  blue  and  containing  all  her  girlish  treasures. 
On  the  walls  were  numerous  photographs  of  her 
old  schoolmates  and  the  flag  of  the  seminary 
she  had  attended.  And  on  the  mantel  rested  the 
picture  of  Raymond  Case,  the  high  polish  of  the 
surface  marred  in  one  spot  where  a  tear  had 
fallen  upon  it. 

The  girl  was  tall  and  slender,  with  a  wealth 
of  light-brown  hair  and  eyes  of  deepest  blue. 
It  was  more  than  a  pretty  face,  for  it  had  a 
certain  sadness  that  was  touching. 


MARGARET   LANGMORE  26 

For  several  minutes  the  girl  had  not  moved. 
Now,  as  the  door  opened  and  the  woman  who 
was  on  guard  upstairs  came  in,  she  gave  a  long 
sigh. 

"Can  I  do  anything?"  asked  the  woman,  in  a 
voice  that  was  not  unkindly. 

"Nothing,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Morse." 
"Would  you   like   a  cup   of  tea,   or  a  bit  of 
toast?     Mrs.  Jessup  can  make  it  easy  enough — 
she  has  nothing  at  all  to  do." 

"I  do  not  care  to  touch  a  thing." 
The  answer  came  in  a  dreary  monotone.  The 
girl's  trials  were  beginning  to  tell  upon  her.  At 
first  she  had  tried  to  bear  up  bravely,  and  the 
words  Raymond  had  spoken  had  comforted  her, 
but  now  he  was  gone  and  the  whole  world 
looked  dark  once  more. 

"Has  anybody  called?"  she  asked  at  length. 
"Nobody  to  see  you." 

"Nobody?"  Margaret  began  to  pace  the  floor. 
"When  did  the  coroner  say  the  examination  was 
to  be  continued?"  she  went  on. 

"To-morrow  morning  at  eleven  o'clock." 
"And  who  is  to  be  put  on  the  stand?" 
At  this  question  the  woman  in  charge  began 
to  fidget     "Excuse  me,  miss,  but  I  was  ordered 
not  to  answer  questions.     I'm  sorry,  and  I  wish 


26          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

you  wouldn't  worry  so  much.  If  I  can  do  any- 
thing else " 

"You  can  do  nothing." 

At  that  moment  came  the  sounds  of  carriage 
wheels  and  a  cab  from  the  depot  drew  up  to  the 
door.  Margaret  looked  through  the  slats  of  a 
blind  and  saw  that  the  arrivals  were  Raymond 
Case  and  a  stranger,  a  man  wearing  a  rather 
ordinary  suit  of  clothing  and  a  rough  slouch  hat. 

"Thank  Heaven,  Raymond  has  brought  some- 
body!" murmured  the  girl. 

There  was  a  short  consultation  at  the  front 
door  and  she  heard  the  young  man  say:  "He 
has  a  perfect  right  here  and  I  demand  admittance 
for  us  both."  Then  another  murmur  followed 
and  the  pair  came  upstairs.  They  knocked  on 
the  door  of  Margaret's  room  and  were  admitted, 
and  Mrs.  Morse  was  told  that  she  might  go. 

"This  gentleman  has  come  to  give  Miss  Lang- 
more  some  advice,"  said  Raymond  Case.  "If  we 
want  you  we  will  call." 

"But  I  have  orders " 

"Miss  Langmore  will  remain  in  this  room,  so 
you  have  nothing  to  fear.  She  has  a  legal  right 
to  receive  advice." 

"Oh,  if  the  gentleman  is  a  lawyer  I  have  noth- 
ing to  say,"  was  the  retort,  and  Mrs.  Morse 
swept  from  the  room. 


MARGARET   LANGMORE  27 

1  he  instant  she  was  gone,  the  young  man 
closed  the  door  and  then  rushed  up  to  Margaret 
Langmore  and  kissed  her. 

"I  have  succeeded!"  he  cried.  "I  told  you 
I  would:  This  is  Mr.  Adam  Adams.  Mr.  Adams, 
this  is  Miss  Margaret  Langmore.  Now,  I  guess 
we  are  going  to  show  these  country  bumpkins 
a  thing  or  two!"  he  added  earnestly. 

The  detective  advanced  and  shook  hands. 
Margaret  Langmore  was  a  trifle  disappointed  in 
his  appearance  and  her  face  clouded  for  an 
instant.  Raymond  was  quick  to  notice  it. 

"You  mustn't  judge  a  man  by  his  appearance. 
Mr.  Adams  makes  himself  look  that  way  on  pur- 
pose. He's  the  smartest,  swiftest ' 

"That  will  do,"  interrupted  the  detective  with 
a  brief  smile. 

"Will  you  help  me?"  The  girl  eyed  the  de- 
tective squarely.  "I — I  need  help  so  much." 

"I  must  hear  your  story  first." 

"Oh,  I  thought  Raymond  would  tell  you  every- 
thing." 

"He  has  told  me  all  he  knows.  But  I  want 
to  hear  the  story  from  your  own  lips.  Some- 
thing may  have  slipped  him,  you  know." 

"I  will  tell  you  everything.     Please  sit  down." 

Margaret  Langmore  began  her  narrative.  It 
was  fully  an  hour  before  she  finished.  Occa- 


28          THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

sionally  the  detective  asked  a  question,  but  for 
the  most  part  he  sat  back  with  his  eyes  closed, 
as  if  thinking  of  something  else. 

"Now,  Miss  Langmore,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he 
straightened  up  at  the  conclusion  of  her  recital, 
"whom  do  you  suspect  of  this  crime?" 

"I  suspect  no  one,  sir." 

"Have  you  any  idea  why  this  awful  deed  was 
committed?"  The  detective  had  been  on  the 
point  of  saying  "murder"  but  had  checked  himself. 

"Not  the  least  in  the  world." 

"Some  of  the  windows  were,  of  course,  open. 
What  of  the  doors?" 

"The  front  door  and  that  to  the  side  piazza 
were  locked.  The  back  door  was  open." 

"Then- a  person  might  have  sneaked  in  by  the 
back  way?" 

"I  presume  so." 

"Your  father  was  quite  dead  when  you  found 
him?"  asked  the  detective  quickly. 

"I — I — thought  so."     The  girl  began  to  choke 

up  and  sob.  "It — it  was  such  a  shock — I — I ' 

She  could  not  go  on. 

Adam  Adams  watched  her  keenly  and  noted 
how  she  trembled  from  head  to  foot. 

"Do  not  take  it  so  hard,  Margaret,"  put  in 
Raymond  Case,  placing  his  hand  upon  her  shoul- 


MARGARET  LANGMORE  29 

der.  "It  will  all  come  out  right  in  the  end — I 
am  sure  of  it." 

"But  it  will  not  bring  back  my  father!"  sobbed 
the  girl.  "And  he  was  so  dear  to  me!  And  to 
think  that  we  should  quarrel  at  all " 

"The  quarrel  took  place  at  the  breakfast  table, 
so  you  said,"  came  from  Adam  Adams.  "And 
you  rushed  out  to  get  away  from  what  your 
stepmother  was  saying  to  you?" 

"Yes.     I  could  not  bear  it  any  longer." 

"Your  father   took   Mrs.   Langmore's  part?" 

"He  did,  but  at  the  same  time  he  told  her 
not  to  be  so  hard  on  me — that  I  had  been  without 
a  mother  to  guide  me  so  many  years,  and  all 
that." 

"Do  you  think  they  quarreled  between  them- 
selves after  you  left,  or  after  your  father  came 
back  from  the  bank?" 

"I  cannot  say  as  to  that." 

"Mr.  Adams  has  an  idea  that  possibly  one 
or  the  other  of  them  was  responsible,"  put  in 
Raymond.  "He  thinks  one  might  have  killed 
the  other  and  then  committed  suicide." 

"I  do  not  think  so.  I  said  it  was  possible," 
corrected  the  detective.  "In  taking  up  an  affair 
of  this  sort  one  must  look  at  it  from  all  sides." 

"I  do  not  believe  my  father  either  killed  her 


30          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

or  committed  suicide,"  answered  Margaret  Lang- 
more  firmly. 

"Do  you  think  Mrs.  Langmore  would  act  in 
such  a  fashion?" 

The  girl  pondered  for  a  moment. 

"Honestly  I  do  not.  She  may  have  killed  my 
father,  but  if  so  she  would  have  run  away." 

"The  safe  was  closed  at  the  time  of  the 
tragedy?" 

"Yes." 

"And  absolutely  nothing  was  stolen?" 

"Nothing,  so  far  as  we  have  been  able  to 
ascertain." 

"Was  anything  out  of  order,  as  if  the  assassin 
had  been  scared  off  while  hunting  around  for 
something  to  steal?" 

"I  did  not  see  anything.  But  I  was  so  upset 
I  noticed  scarcely  anything." 

"That  was  natural,  of  course.  The  safe  has 
not  yet  been  opened?" 

"No,  we  are  waiting  for  a  man  to  come  from 
the  safe  makers." 

"Now,  one  thing  more.  After  you  came  back 
to  the  house  before  practicing  what  did  you  do?" 

"I  wrote  some  letters  to  girl  friends,  telling 
them  I  could  not  give  a  house  party." 

"And  before  that?" 

"I — I,  must  I  tell?     I  threw  myself  on  the  bed 


MARGARET   LANGMORE  31 

yonder  for  a  good  cry.  It  was  silly,  I  know — 
but— but " 

"Did  you  hear  anything  unusual  while  you  were 
here?  Think  carefully." 

"I  have  tried  to  think  it  out  several  times. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  heard  some  sort  of  a  shriek, 
but  I  am  not  at  all  certain.  Then,  again,  I  think 
I  heard  the  fall  of  something  heavy  on  the  floor. 
But  it  may  be  all  fancy." 

"And  that  is  all  you  can  tell  me?" 

"Yes."  Margaret  Langmore  gave  a  long  sigh. 
"Oh,  Mr.  Adams,  can  you  not  do  something  for 
me?  It  is  horrible  to  be  suspected  in  this  fashion. 
I  cannot  make  a  move  without  being  watched!" 

"It  is  certainly  a  cruel  situation."  The  detec- 
tive paused.  "I  am  sure  of  one  thing,  Miss  Lang- 
more." 

"And  that  is " 

"That  you  are  innocent.  Those  who  think 
you  are  guilty  are  fools,  as  Mr.  Case  says." 

"Yet  more  than  half  the  folks  around  here 
think  that  way." 

"Let  them.  We'll  set  to  work  to  prove  their 
mistake." 

"Good!"  almost  shouted  Raymond  Case,  and 
his  face  broke  out  into  a  look  of  relief.  "Then 
you  will  take  the  case,  Mr.  Adams?" 

"I  will." 


32          THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"I  know  you  will  succeed." 

"If  you  do  succeed,  I  shall  be  grateful  to  you 
all  my  life,"  came  from  Margaret  Lacgmore 
warmly. 


CHAPTER  IV 

DETECTIVE  AND  DOCTOR 

As  ALREADY  intimated,  Adam  Adams,  in  his  ca- 
reer as  an  investigator  and  detective,  had  solved 
many  difficult  criminal  problems,  yet  this  some- 
what remarkable  individual  realized  that  the 
mystery  before  him  was  as  difficult  of  solution  as 
any  he  had  yet  encountered. 

The  most  tantalizing  thing  about  the  whole 
affair  was  its  simplicity.  Two  people  had  been 
murdered  in  their  own  home  in  broad  daylight. 
No  one  had  been  seen  around  the  place,  and  even 
the  manner  in  which  the  foul  deed  had  been  com- 
mitted was  a  secret. 

A  score  of  possibilities  presented  themselves  to 
his  mind  when  he  left  Margaret  Langmore  and 
Raymond  Case  to  begin  the  task  he  had  set  be- 
fore himself — to  clear  the  fair  name  of  the  beau- 
tiful girl  who  had  placed  her  faith  in  him  and 
his  ability. 

"I'll  take  a  look  around  the  house  first,"  he 
reasoned.  "Then  I'll  find  out  a  little  more  about 
these  dead  folks  and  their  connections." 

as 


34          THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

Thinking  that  he  must  be  some  noted  lawyer 
from  New  York,  Mrs.  Morse  was  very  gracious 
to  him,  and  readily  consented  to  show  him  around. 

"Here  is  the  spot  where  Mrs.  Langmore's  body 
was  found,"  said  the  woman,  leading  the  way  to 
a  bend  in  the  upper  hallway.  "The  servant  girl 
tripped  over  it  in  her  hurry,  and  went  sprawling. 
She  was  about  scared  out  of  her  wits." 

"Naturally  enough.  Do  you  know  how  the 
body  was  lying?" 

"At  full  length,  they  say,  face  downward,  and 
with  the  fists  clenched." 

"Was  that  window  open?" 

"Yes,  but  not  the  blinds." 

"Where  does  that  door  lead  to?" 

"Mrs.  Langmore's  dressing  room.  The  door 
was  open  when  they  found  her — as  if  she  had 
come  out  and  was  trying  to  get  downstairs." 

"Humph!"  The  detective  pushed  the  blinds 
of  the  window  open  and  began  to  examine  the 
carpet  on  the  floor. 

"We've  looked  around,  but  we  couldn't  see  a 
thing,"  pursued  the  woman. 

"We?   Who?" 

"The  coroner  and  the  police  officers." 

"Oh !    You  say  the  body  was  lying  right  here?" 

"Yes — the  head  there,  and  the  feet  there.  I 
suppose  you  are  going  to  try  to  clear  Miss  Lang- 


DETECTIVE  AND  DOCTOR  85 

more,  aren't  you?"  went  on  Mrs.  Morse  curi- 
ously. 

"I  am — if  she  is  innocent." 

"You'll  have  a  task  doing  it.  Everybody 
around  here  thinks  her  guilty." 

To  this  Adam  Adams  did  not  reply.  He  was 
down  on  his  hands  and  knees,  close  to  where  the 
head  of  the  murdered  woman  had  rested.  He 
placed  his  nose  to  the  carpet  and  drew  in  a  long 
breath.  His  olfactory  nerves  were  sensitive,  and 
detected  a  certain  pungent,  stinging  odor,  of  a 
sort  not  easily  forgotten. 

"You  must  be  pretty  short-sighted,"  was  the 
woman's  comment.  The  sight  of  the  man  on  his 
hands  and  knees  amused  her. 

"Well,  I  might  have  a  better  pair  of  eyes,  I 
admit." 

From  his  examination  of  the  carpet,  the  detec- 
tive turned  to  the  window.  Outside  was  the  roof 
to  the  side  piazza  of  the  mansion.  On  the  tin 
roof  were  some  dried-up  spots  of  mud.  He 
looked  them  over  carefully,  and  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  they  were  footprints,  but  how  old 
was  a  question. 

"When  did  it  rain  last  around  here?"  he  asked. 

"We  haven't  had  a  real  storm  for  ten  days  or 
two  weeks.  We  have  had  several  showers, 
though." 


36         THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

He  took  a  glance  into  Mrs.  Langmore's  dress- 
ing room.  Everything  was  in  perfect  order,  even 
to  the  powder-box  and  the  cologne  bottles  on  the 
dresser. 

"That  is  all  I  wish  to  see  up  here,"  he  said,  and 
passed  below,  where  he  encountered  the  police- 
man in  charge.  Like  the  woman,  this  officer  had 
taken  him  to  be  a  lawyer,  and  he  readily  con- 
sented to  let  the  detective  inspect  the  library. 

"Mr.  Langmore  was  found  in  that  chair,"  said 
he.  "He  looked  as  if  he  had  suffered  great  pain 
before  he  died.  I  think  he  was  strangled,  al- 
though he  didn't  show  the  marks  of  it." 

The  library  was  a  richly-furnished  apartment. 
Along  two  walls  were  rows  of  costly  volumes, 
many  relating  to  modern  inventions.  On  the  walls 
hung  some  rare  steel  engravings,  including  one  of 
Fulton  and  his  first  steamboat.  There  was  a  large 
library  table,  with  a  student's  lamp,  a  mahogany 
roller-top  desk,  half  a  dozen  comfortable  chairs, 
and  a  small,  but  well-built  safe,  which,  as  said 
before,  was  closed  and  locked. 

"The  coroner  locked  and  sealed  the  desk,  and 
put  all  the  loose  papers  in  it,"  said  the  policeman. 

There  were  two  windows  to  the  library,  and 
one  was  close  to  the  side  porch,  the  roof  of  which 
the  detective  had  examined  from  above.  A  per- 
son dropping  from  above  could  easily  have  en- 


DETECTIVE  AND  DOCTOR  37 

tered  the  library  by  the  window,  thus  saving  him- 
self the  trouble  of  walking  through  the  halls  and 
down  the  stairs.  Adatn  Adams  looked  outside, 
and  saw  on  the  ground  a  number  of  footprints, 
some  running  to  a  gravel  path  but  a  few  feet 
away. 

"Where  are  the  bodies?"  he  asked,  as  he  con- 
tinued his  examination  of  the  room. 

"At  Camboin's  morgue.  The  doctors  have  been 
looking  for  poison,  but  they  can't  find  any." 

The  detective  got  down  in  front  of  the  safe  and 
examined  it  critically.  Had  it  been  opened  after 
the  murder  and  then  closed  again?  That  was  an 
important  question,  but  he  was  unable  to  answer 
it. 

More  by  instinct  than  anything  else,  he  got 
down  and  peered  under  the  safe.  A  crumpled-up 
bit  of  paper  caught  his  eye,  and  he  picked  it  up 
and  slipped  it  into  his  pocket  without  the  police- 
man being  the  wiser. 

"Has  anybody  else  been  here?"  he  asked.  "I 
mean  any  outsiders." 

"A  good  many  folks  from  the  village." 

"Anybody  else?" 

"Yes,  a  detective  from  Brooklyn.  He  thought 
there  might  be  a  job  for  him,  but  there  wasn't, 
so  he  went  away,"  and  the  policeman  smiled 
grimly. 


38          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"What  was  his  name?" 

"I  think  he  said  it  was  Peterson." 

"Is  that  the  Bardon  house  yonder?"  And 
Adam  Adams  pointed  through  the  window  and 
across  the  side  lawn. 

"Yes.  Doctor  Bardon  was  the  first  to  come 
over — he  and  his  mother." 

"So  I  heard.  I  think  I'll  step  over  and  speak 
to  them  a  moment." 

"So  you   are  working  for  Miss  Langmore?" 

"Yes,  in  a  way." 

"You'll  have  an  uphill  job  clearing  her.  The 
coroner  thinks  he  has  a  clear  case  against  her." 

"Do  you  know  what  evidence  he  possesses?" 

"Not  exactly.  He  isn't  telling  all  he  knows," 
returned  the  officer  of  the  law.  "There  is  the 
doctor  now." 

A  buggy  was  coming  down  the  road.  It  turned 
in  at  the  next  house,  and  a  young  man,  carrying 
a  small  case,  leaped  out  and  disappeared  into 
the  dwelling. 

In  a  few  minutes  more,  Adam  Adams  made 
his  way  next  door.  An  elderly  servant  admitted 
him  and  ushered  him  into  the  doctor's  office, 
where  the  young  physician  sat  marking  down  some 
calls  in  his  notebook. 

"This  is  Doctor  Bardon,  I  believe.  I  just  came 
over  from  the  Langmore  house.  I  am  working 


DETECTIVE  AND  DOCTOR  39 

on  this  mystery,  and  I  understand  you  were  the 
physician  who  tried  to  bring  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lang- 
more  to  life  after  they  were  found." 

"I  worked  over  Mr.  Langmore,  yes,"  was  the 
young  physician's  answer.     "I  saw  at  once  that  it 
was  impossible  to  do  anything  for  his  wife.     She 
had  a  weak  heart  naturally,  and  was  stone  dead- 
some  time  before  I  got  there." 

"You  thought  you  saw  a  spark  of  life  in  Mr. 
Langmore?" 

"Not  exactly  a  spark,  but  I  thought  there  might 
be  hope.  But  I  was  mistaken,  although  I  did 
everything  I  could." 

"I  have  been  told  that  working  over  the  corpse 
made  you  sick." 

At  these  words,  the  face  of  the  young  physi- 
cian showed  his  annoyance.  He  drew  himself  up. 

"Excuse  me,  but  you  are "  and  he  paused 

inquiringly. 

"I  am  working  on  this  case  in  the  interests  of 
Miss  Langmore.  My  name  is  Adams." 

"Oh!" 

"What  I  would  like  to  know  is,  What  made  you 
sick?  Was  it  merely  that  a  crime  had  been  com- 
mitted— something  you  were  not  accustomed  to?" 

"No,  it  was  not,  Mr.  Adams.  I  am  young,  I 
know,  but  I  have  had  a  good  hospital  experience, 
and  such  things  do  not  unnerve  me.  To  be  sure, 


40         THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

Mr.  Langmore  was  a  good  neighbor,  and  I 
thought  much  of  him.  But  it  was  not  that." 

"Then  what  was  it?" 

"It  was  something  about  the  corpse.  As  I 
worked  I  had  to  sneeze — something  seemed  to 
get  into  my  nose  and  throat,  and  in  a  minute  more 
I  began  to  have  cramps  and  grew  deathly  sick. 
It  was  the  queerest  sensation  I  ever  experienced 
in  my  life.  I  haven't  gotten  over  it  yet." 

"You  had  to  go  out  to  get  some  fresh  air?" 

"I  did.  If  I  had  not,  I  think  I  should  have 
suffered  much  more." 

"And  you  found  no  trace  of  any  poison,  or  any- 
thing of  that  sort?" 

"Not  the  slightest.  Another  doctor  was  called 
in,  and  then  I  went  back.  The  peculiar  odor,  or 
whatever  it  was,  was  gone,  and  I  could  find  no 
further  trace  of  it." 

"You  think  it  must  have  evaporated?" 

"What  else  is  there  to  think?  The  windows 
and  blinds  had  been  thrown  wide  open,  and  the 
sun  was  shining  into  the  room." 

This  was  all  the  young  doctor  could  tell,  and 
as  he  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  away  on  more  busi- 
ness, the  detective  did  not  detain  him  further. 
He  ascertained  that  Mrs.  Bardon  was  also  away, 
and  then  left  the  house. 

In  his  pocket  he  still  carried  the  bit  of  paper 


DETECTIVE  AND  DOCTOR  41 

which  he  had  picked  up  from  under  the  safe.  It 
had  evidently  been  part  of  the  wrapper  around 
some  small  object,  and  bore  the  following,  printed 
in  blue  ink: 

nder  &  Co., 
ley  Street, 
ter,  N.  Y. 
ark. 

The  paper  might  be  valuable,  and  it  might  be 
worthless.  It  had  evidently  been  around  a  small 
box  or  bottle.  The  address  was  evidently  that 
of  some  firm  doing  business  in  some  town  in  New 
York  State.  What  the  "ark"  could  stand  for,  he 
could  not  surmise. 

As  the  detective  left  the  Bardon  house,  he  saw 
a  middle-aged  man  entering  the  Langmore  man- 
sion. The  man  was  well  dressed  and  carried  a 
dress-suit  case. 

"A  visitor  of  some  sort,"  he  mused.  "Perhaps 
a  relative." 

When  he  stepped  up  on  the  piazza  Raymond 
Case  came  out  to  meet  him.  The  young  man 
wished  to  know  if  he  had  learned  anything  from 
the  doctor. 

"Not  a  great  deal,"  answered  Adam  Adams. 
"Who  was  that  man  who  just  came  in?" 

"Thomas  Ostrello,  one  of  Mrs.  Langmore's 
sons  by  her  first  husband." 


42         THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"Is  he  a  frequent  visitor  here?" 

"I  believe  not.  He  is  a  commercial  traveler, 
and  on  the  road  nearly  all  the  time." 

"Has  he  been  here  since  the  tragedy?" 

"No.  He  was  here  the  day  before  it  occurred, 
but  went  away  in  the  evening.  I  suppose  his 
mother's  death  has  shocked  him  a  good  deal." 

"I  believe  you  said  the  Ostrellos  are  not  well 
off?" 

"No;  they  are  poor,  so  Margaret  told  me. 
Both  of  the  sons  are  on  the  road,  one  for  a  paint 
house  and  this  one  for  a  drug  house.  By  the  way, 
I  am  going  to  town,  to  see  the  coroner.  Do  you 
want  to  come  along?" 

"No,  I'll  see  him  later.  I  want  to  take  a  walk 
around  this  place  first.  I  may  pick  up  a  stray 
clue." 

Left  to  himself,  Adam  Adams  walked  slowly 
around  the  mansion,  noting  the  several  ap- 
proaches. He  looked  in  at  the  stable  and  the 
automobile  shed,  and  strolled  down  to  the  brook. 
He  made  no  noise,  for  it  was  his  practice  to  move 
about  as  silently  as  possible  and  without  attract- 
ing attention. 

Suddenly  he  halted  and  stepped  out  of  sight 
behind  some  bushes  not  far  away  from  the  brook. 
He  heard  a  splashing,  which  told  him  that  some- 
body was  near. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    MAN    AT   THE    BROOK 

BESIDE  the  brook  stood  a  shabbily-dressed  man, 
apparently  fifty-five  or  sixty  years  old.  He  wore 
an  old  rusty  black  coat  and  a  soft  hat  with  a  hole 
in  it.  His  face  was  tanned  and  partly  covered 
with  a  beard. 

The  man  was  acting  in  a  manner  to  excite  any- 
body's curiosity.  He  carried  a  stick  in  his  hand, 
and  w.as  poking  around  in  the  water  with  it. 
Every  once  in  a  while  he  looked  around,  to  see  if 
anybody  was  observing  him. 

Straining  his  eyes,  Adam  Adams  saw  a  strip 
of  white  floating  on  the  water.  Once  or  twice 
it  disappeared.  Finally  the  end  of  the  strip  caught 
on  an  overhanging  bush,  and  then  the  strange 
man  withdrew  his  cane  from  the  brook. 

As  he  turned  around  the  detective  dodged  out 
of  sight.  Apparently  satisfied  that  he  was  not 
observed,  the  strange  man  leaned  down  at  the 
bank  of  the  brook,  took  something  from  his  pocket 
and  placed  it  down  on  the  moist  dirt.  Then  he 

43 


44          THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

took  another  object  from  his  pocket  and  repeated 
the  operation. 

"Can  they  be  shoes  he  has  in  his  hands?"  mused 
the  detective.  "And  if  they  are,  what  is  he  doing 
with  them?" 

Hearing  the, slamming  of  a  door  at  the  man- 
sion, Adam  Adams  drew  still  further  back  among 
the  bushes.  A  minute  later  he  saw  the  man  make 
a  long  leap,  clear  the  brook,  and  hurry  away 
among  the  trees  and  brushwood  on  the  other  side. 

"Humph  1  Perhaps  this  is  worth  investigat- 
ing," mused  the  detective,  and  made  his  way  to 
the  spot  the  strange  individual  had  occupied.  On 
the  bank  of  the  brook  he  saw  the  marks  of  the 
man's  broad  shoes  and  also  some  prints  made  by 
smaller  shoes.  The  latter  prints  were  irregular, 
and  at  once  arrested  the  detective's  attention.  He 
smiled  grimly  to  himself. 

"Clue  number  one!"  he  muttered. 

Adam  Adams  looked  around  in  the  water. 
Soon  he  came  upon  the  strip  of  white,  and,  pull- 
ing on  it,  brought  to  light  a  white  silk  shirtwaist, 
torn  to  ribbons  in  front  and  at  one  sleeve.  He 
wrung  the  water  and  mud  from  the  garment  and 
examined  it.  Inside  of  the  collar  band  were  the 
initials,  "M.  A.  L." 

"Margaret  A.  Langmore,"  he  murmured. 
"Those  initials  are  hers.  If  the  shirtwaist  was 


THE   MAN  AT  THE  BROOK  45' 

hers,  how  did  that  fellow  get  possession  of  it? 
And  did  he  place  it  here  or  find  it  here?" 

Drying  the  garment  as  much  as  possible,  he 
placed  it  in  his  pocket,  and  continued  his  search 
around  the  vicinity.  He  spent  fully  an  hour  in 
the  locality,  and  then  walked  back  the  way  he 
had  come,  and  into  the  mansion.  There  he  found 
Thomas  Ostrello  in  conversation  with  the  police- 
man. 

"It  is  a  terrible  blow  to  me,"  the  commercial 
traveler  was  saying.  "And  to  think  I  was  here 
just  the  day  before  it  happened!  If  I  had  re- 
mained here  over  night,  it  might  not  have  oc- 
curred at  all!" 

"Well,  that's  the  way  things  happen,"  answered 
the  policeman.  "Once  I  was  at  one  end  of  my 
beat  when  a  thief  broke  into  a  store  at  the  other 
end  and  stole  sixteen  dollars  and  two  hams." 

"And  I  suppose  they  blamed  you  for  it." 

"Sure  they  did.  I  was  laid  off  for  a  week,  with- 
out pay.  If  anything  happens  it  is  always  the 
poor  copper  who  is  to  blame." 

"Well,  the  family  are  not  blaming  you  for 
this." 

"They  can't — especially  as  they've  got  the  per- 
son who  did  the  deed." 

At  this  Thomas  Ostrello  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. 


46          THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"I  don't  know  about  that." 

"You  don't?" 

"No.  I'd  hate  to  believe  any  girl  could  do 
such  a  fearful  thing  as  this."  The  commercial 
traveler  paused.  "I'm  going  to  take  a  look 
around.  I  suppose  it's  all  right." 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Ostrello,"  answered  the  po- 
liceman, and  then  the  commercial  man  stepped 
into  the  library,  closing  the  door  after  him. 

Adam  Adams  had  passed  into  the  dining  room, 
just  back  of  the  library,  but  had  heard  what  was 
said.  Now,  looking  through  the  doorway,  which 
had  a  sliding  door  and  a  heavy  curtain,  the  latter 
partly  drawn,  he  saw  the  man  glance  around  hur- 
riedly, moving  from  one  object  to  another  in  the 
library.  He  looked  under  the  table  and  the  chairs, 
in  the  corners,  and  even  into  the  various  book- 
cases. Then  he  came  and  knelt  down  before  the 
safe,  and  tried  the  knob  of  the  combination  half 
a  dozen  times. 

"He  is  more  than  ordinarily  interested,"  rea- 
soned the  detective.  "But  then  it  was  his  own 
mother  who  was  murdered." 

The  commercial  man  continued  his  search  un- 
til he  had  covered  every  object  in  the  room  sev- 
eral times.  He  even  looked  behind  the  pictures, 
and  into  the  drawer  of  the  table,  something  which 
had  escaped  the  coroner's  eye  when  sealing  up 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  BROOK  47 

the  desk.  Adam  Adams  saw  him  shake  his  head 
in  despair.  He  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the 
apartment  and  clenched  his  hands  nervously. 

"Gone!"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "What 
could  have  become  of  it?" 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  notebook  he  car- 
ried, and  studied  several  items  carefully.  A  long 
sigh  escaped  from  his  lips  as  he  restored  the  note- 
book to  his  pocket. 

As  the  commercial  traveler  moved  toward  the 
dining  room,  the  detective  stepped  into  a  side 
apartment,  used  in  the  winter  as  a  conservatory. 
He  saw  Thomas  Ostrello  make  an  examination  of 
several  places,  including  a  sideboard.  Then  the 
woman  who  had  been  placed  in  charge  of  the 
downstairs  portion  of  the  mansion  entered. 

"Won't  you  have  a  bite  to  eat,  Mr.  Ostrello?" 
she  asked. 

"Perhaps  so,  later  on.  I  do  not  feel  like  eat- 
ing now.  Can  I  take  a  look  at  my  mother's 
room?" 

"Why,  yes.     I  suppose  you  know  where  it  is?" 

"Certainly;  I  often  visited  her  there  when  she 
was  not  feeling  well." 

He  passed  out  without  another  word,  and  was 
soon  mounting  the  heavily-carpeted  stairs.  Once 
in  the  room,  he  closed  the  door  tightly.  Coming 
up  softly  after  him,  Adam  Adams  tried  the  door 


48          THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

and  found  it  locked.  More  interested  than  ever, 
the  detective,  just  avoiding  Mrs.  Morse,  who  was 
passing  through  the  hallway,  slipped  into  the  ad- 
joining room,  and  finding,  as  he  had  imagined,  a 
door  between  the  two,  applied  his  eye  to  the  key- 
hole. 

This  might  mean  nothing,  and  it  might  mean 
everything.  He  saw  Mrs.  Langmore's  son  mov- 
ing around  the  dressing  room  precisely  as  he  had 
moved  around  the  library.  He  heard  the  bureau 
drawers  opened  and  shut,  and  then  heard  the 
squeak  of  a  small  writing  desk  that  stood  in  a 
corner,  as  the  leaf  was  turned  down.  Then  came 
a  rattle  of  papers  and  a  sudden  subdued  exclama- 
tion. The  desk  was  closed  again,  and  the  man 
came  out  of  the  room,  leaving  the  hall  door  partly 
open. 

"Whatever  he  was  looking  for,  he  must  have 
found  it,"  reasoned  the  detective.  "Now,  what 
was  it?" 

He  waited  in  the  hallway  and  heard  Thomas 
Ostrello  enter  the  dining  room.  A  minute  later 
came  the  rattle  of  dishes.  Then  Mrs.  Morse  con- 
fronted him. 

"Back  again,  I  see,"  she  said  rather  sharply. 

"Yes;  I  wish  to  have  another  talk  with  Miss 
Langmore,"  he  returned,  and,  brushing  her  aside, 


THE   MAN  AT  THE  BROOK  40 

knocked  on  the  girl's  door,  and  was  admitted. 
The  woman  pursed  up  her  lips. 

"How  very  important  some  of  those  city  law- 
yers are,1'  she  muttered.  "Think  they  know  it  all, 
I  guess.  Well,  he'll  have  a  job  clearing  her,  if 
what  Coroner  Busby  says  is  true." 

"Oh,  I  did  not  know  you  were  coming  back!" 
exclaimed  Margaret.  "Has  anything  happened?" 

"I  want  to  know,  something  about  this,  Miss 
Langmore,"  and  he  brought  out  the  torn  and  wet 
shirtwaist.  "Is  it  yours?" 

"Oh,  certainly;  but  where  did  it  come  from? 
And  it  is  all  torn,  too !  It  was  almost  new  when 
I  had  it  on  last!" 

"When  was  that?" 

The  girl  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then  turned 
pale. 

"On  the  morning  that — that " 

"That  the  tragedy  occurred?" 

"Yes.  I  don't  know  what  made  me  put  it  on, 
but  I  did." 

"And  when  did  you  take  it  off?" 

"Why,  let  me  see.  Some  time  in  the  afternoon, 
I  think.  I — I  fainted,  and  it  got  dirty,  and  so  I 
put  on  another  and  threw  this  in  the  clothes 
closet." 

"Are  you  certain  you  put  it  in  the  clothes 
closet?" 


60          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"Positive.     Where  did  you  find  it?" 

"Never  mind  that  just  now.  Do  you  keep 
your  shoes  in  that  closet?" 

"I  do.     But  why " 

"Will  you  kindly  see  if  all  of  your  shoes  are 
there?" 

The  girl  ran  over,  opened  the  closet  door,  and 
began  an  immediate  examination. 

"One  pair  is  missing — a  pair  I  use  a  great 
deal,  too,"  she  said  a  minute  later.  "Oh,  Mr. 
Adams,  what  does  this  mean?" 

"I  don't  know — yet.  While  you  are  at  it,  you 
might  let  me  know  if  anything  else  is  missing." 

Margaret  began  a  close  examination  of  every- 
thing in  the  closet,  the  detective  watching  her  as 
keenly  as  he  had  before. 

"She  is  either  innocent,  or  else  the  greatest  ac- 
tress I've  ever  met,"  was  his  mental  conclusion. 
"I  think  her  innocent,  but  the  best  of  us  get  tripped 
up  at  times.  If  she  is  innocent,  that  evidence  was 
manufactured  to  prove  her  guilty.  If  only  I  had 
followed  that  man  up !  I  might  have  learned 
something  worth  knowing." 

"Nothing  else  seems  to  be  missing,"  announced 
the  girl,  at  length. 

"Very  well;  then  don't  waste  time  by  searching 
further.  By  the  way,  did  you  know  Mr.  Thomas 
Ostrello  had  arrived?" 


THE   MAN  AT  THE   BROOK  51 

"Yes;  I  told  Raymond  to  telegraph  for  him. 
He  used  to  call  quite  often  to  see  his  mother." 

"What  about  the  other  son — Dick?" 

"I  do  not  know  where  he  is." 

"Didn't  he  come  here?" 

"He  came  once.  But  he  is  a  dissipated  young 
man,  and  I  do  not  think  my  stepmother  cared 
much  for  him." 

"But  she  did  think  a  good  deal  of  the  one  who 
is  now  downstairs?" 

"Yes,  although  they  occasionally  had  their 
quarrels,  just  as  we  had  ours.  Tom  would  plead 
for  his  brother  Dick,  who  seemed  to  be  always 
wanting  money.  Once  my  father  took  a  hand  and 
said  his  wife  shouldn't  give  Dick  a  cent  more,  as 
he  only  squandered  it.  That  made  Tom  angry, 
and  he  had  a  quarrel  with  my  father,  and  after 
that  when  Tom  came  he  would  ask  to  see  only  his 
mother,  although  he  and  I  remained  on  fairly 
good  terms." 

"Tom  was  here  the  day  before  the  tragedy?" 

"Yes.  I  think  he  came  to  see  his  mother  about 
some  private  business.  They  had  a  long  talk  in 
her  room,  and  she  seemed  to  be  quite  excited  when 
he  went  away.  I  don't  know  what  it  was  all  about. 
But,  Mr.  Adams,  are  you  not  hungry,  and  won't 
you  have  a  lunch?" 


52          THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"Thanks,  I'll  take  a  bite." 

The  lunch  was  served  in  Margaret's  apartment, 
and  the  detective  did  ample  justice  to  it,  for  he 
never  allowed  business  to  interfere  with  his  appe- 
tite. As  he  ate,  the  girl  watched  him  curiously. 

"Mr.  Adams,"  she  said  presently,  "do  you 
know,  you  do  not  seem  a  bit  like  a  detective  to 
me — I  mean  like  the  detectives  you  read  about — 
the  men  going  about  in  wonderful  disguises  and 
the  like,  and  doing  marvelous  things?  And  yet, 
I  know  you  have  a  wonderful  reputation — Ray- 
mond told  me  about  it." 

At  that  he  smiled  broadly.  "Wonderful  dis- 
guises, eh?  Well,  I  use  them  when  I  think  them 
necessary,  and  not  otherwise.  When  I  started 
out,  years  ago,  I  used  a  great  many  more  than  I 
do  now.  To  me  a  mystery  of  this  sort  is  a  good 
deal  like  a  cut-up  picture  that  you  give  a  child  to 
put  together.  First,  you  want  to  make  sure  you 
have  all  the  pieces,  and  then  you  want  to  sit  down, 
put  on  your  thinking-cap,  and  match  the  pieces  to- 
gether. To  you  this  is  an  awful  tragedy,"  his  tone 
softened  greatly,  "to  me  it  is  another  case,  noth- 
ing more.  Work  such  as  I  have  done  is  bound  to 
harden  a  fellow,  in  spite  of  all  of  his  finer  feel- 
ings. But  I  feel  for  you  and  you  have  my  sym- 
pathy." 


THE   MAN  AT  THE  BROOK  53 

"And  you  will  aid  me?  You  said  you  would," 
she  pleaded. 

"I  am  going  to  do  what  I  can — no  man  can  do 
more." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    MYSTERY   DEEPENS 

FROM  the  Langmore  mansion  Adam  Adams 
went  to  town,  and  at  th,e  morgue  made  a  careful 
inspection  of  the  pair  who  had  been  the  victims 
of  the  tragedy.  This  critical  examination  brought 
nothing  new  to  light,  and  he  turned  away  from 
the  place  with  something  of  disappointment. 

"I'll  take  a  look  around  that  brook  again,  and 
see  if  that  strange  man  is  anywhere  in  sight,"  he 
told  himself,  and  got  back  to  the  vicinity  without 
delay. 

Fortune  favored  him  for  once,  for  scarcely  had 
he  reached  the  back  of  the  Langmore  mansion 
when  he  saw  the  stranger  leap  the  brook  again 
and  come  up  towards  the  house. 

"Just  in  time,"  murmured  the  detective.  "He 
shall  not  slip  me  again  in  a  hurry." 

The  stranger  was  very  much  on  his  guard,  and 
Adam  Adams  had  all  he  could  do  to  keep  out  of 
his  sight.  It  was  now  growing  dark,  especially 
under  the  trees  which  surrounded  the  mansion. 

54 


THE    MYSTERY    DEEPENS  55 

At  length  the  fellow  gained  a  point  almost  un- 
der one  of  the  library  windows.  He  gazed  around 
sharply,  and  then  appeared  to  be  searching  for 
something  on  the  ground.  The  detective  saw  him 
start  to  pick  something  up,  but  at  that  moment 
the  side  door  of  the  mansion  opened  and  the 
policeman  came  out. 

"Hullo!  What  are  you  doing  here?"  de- 
manded the  officer. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  was  the  low  answer. 
"Don't  mind  me." 

"But  what  are  you  doing  here?" 

"Just  looking  around,  that's  all." 

"You  haven't  any  right  in  this  yard." 

"I  think  I  have." 

"Who  are  you?" 

"My  name  is  Watkins — Jack  Watkins,"  and 
then  some  words  followed  which  Adam  Adams 
did  not  catch. 

"Oh,  then  I  suppose  that  makes  a  difference," 
came  from  the  policeman  in  a  more  humble  tone. 
"Do  you  want  to  come  in  the  house  and  see  Miss 
Langmore?" 

"No,  I  don't  want  to  see  the  girl.  But  I'll  come 
into  the  house,"  answered  the  strange  man,  and 
walked  up  the  piazza  steps  and  into  the  mansion, 
with  the  policeman  by  his  side. 

As  soon  as  the  fellow  was  ought  of  sight,  Adam 


56 

Adams  drew  closer  and  looked  under  the  bushes 
where  the  other  had  been  searching. 

At  first  he  saw  nothing,  but  then  his  keen  eye 
detected  a  bit  of  paper,  caught  at  the  foot  of  some 
shrubbery. 

"More  documentary  evidence,  perhaps,"  he 
murmured,  as  he  shoved  the  paper  into  his  pocket. 
"I  wonder  if  this  connects  with  the  piece  I  found 
under  the  safe?" 

He  approached  the  window,  the  blinds  of  which 
were  closed,  and  peered  through  the  slats.  A 
light  had  been  lit,  and  the  policeman  and  the 
stranger  had  just  entered  the  room. 

"I  don't  think  you'll  find  much  to  interest  you," 
said  the  officer.  "All  of  the  others  have  hunted 
around,  and  they  didn't  find  much." 

The  stranger  walked  around  the  apartment 
slowly,  and  then  sank  into  an  armchair. 

"Sit  down  and  have  a  smoke  with  me,"  he  said, 
pulling  out  his  cigar  case.  "You've  got  a  long 
night  before  you." 

"I  am  not  going  to  stay  up  all  night.  The 
women  folks  and  me  are  going  to  take  turns. 
They  should  have  sent  another  man  here,  but  the 
chief  couldn't  spare  him,  two  of  the  men  being 
sick." 

Cigars  were  lit,  and  the  pair  smoked  away  for 
several  minutes,  talking  of  the  case  in  ail  of  its 


THE    MYSTERY    DEEPENS  57 

details.  Evidently  the  stranger  agreed  with  the 
general  public  regarding  Margaret  Langmore's 
guilt. 

"Of  course  she'll  put  on  a  good  front,"  said  he, 
blowing  a  ring  of  smoke  into  the  air.  "She's  that 
sort — so  I've  heard.  What  does  her  stepbrother 
say  about  it?" 

"Not  much,  now.  At  first  he  didn't  think  her 
guilty,  but  after  he  talked  with  me  and  the  women 
folks,  he  changed  his  mind,  I  reckon.  It's  a  blow 
to  him,  for  he  thought  a  good  deal  of  the  old 
lady." 

"Mr.  Sudley!"  came  a  call  from  the  hallway. 
"Mr.  Sudley,  where  are  you?" 

It  was  one  of  the  women  who  was  calling,  and, 
laying  down  his  cigar,  the  policeman  left  the 
library  to  see  what  she  wanted. 

The  door  had  scarcely  closed  on  the  officer 
when  the  demeanor  of  the  other  man  changed. 
He  arose,  looked  into  the  dining  room,  and  lis- 
tened at  the  hall  doorway  for  a  second.  Then 
he  recrossed  the  apartment  and  knelt  before  the 
safe.  Adam  Adams  heard  him  mutter  something 
to  himself  as  he  twirled  around  the  knob  of  the 
combination.  Twice  he  tried  the  door  and  failed 
to  open  it,  but  the  third  effort  was  successful. 
But  before  he  could  do  more  than  glance  into  the 
strong  box,  there  was  a  noise  in  the  hallway.  In- 


58          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

stantly  he  shut  the  door  again,  dropped  into  his 
chair,  and  resumed  his  smoking. 

"Women  folks  are  a  regular  nuisance,"  was 
the  policeman's  comment,  on  coming  back.  "Want 
you  to  do  this  and  then  that — keep  you  on  the  go 
all  the  time.  I'm  tired  of  it." 

"Take  my  advice,  and  don't  marry,"  was  the 
rejoinder,  with  a  laugh. 

"Too  late — I've  got  a  wife  and  five  children 
already.  But  I've  got  to  go  to  the  barn.  Will 
you  come  along?" 

"Why — er — I  suppose  so."  The  stranger  hesi- 
tated. "I'll  have  to  be  going  pretty  soon.  Go- 
ing to  stay  in  this  room  all  night?" 

"No;  I'm  going  to  lock  up  and  go  upstairs." 

"That's  right;  nothing  like  resting  on  a  good 
bed.  I  don't  think  the  girl  will  try  to  run  away." 

"She  can't — we're  watching  her  too  closely." 

The  pair  left  the  library.  Scarcely  had  they 
gone  when  Adam  Adams  opened  one  of  the  blinds, 
made  a  quick  leap,  and  came  inside. 

"That  fellow,  will  bear  watching,  no  matter  who 
he  claims  to  be,"  the  detective  told  himself.  "But 
there  is  no  use  of  following  him  now,  for  he  will 
be  back  sooner  or  later.  He  did  not  open  this 
safe  for  nothing." 

With  the  policeman  and  the  stranger  gone,  the 


THE    MYSTERY    DEEPENS  59 

lower  portion  of  the  mansion  appeared  deserted. 
Adam.  Adams  looked  to  make  sure  that  he  was 
not  observed,  and  then  went  to  the  safe.  As  he 
had  anticipated,  the  door  now  came  open  with 
ease. 

The  detective  felt  that  he  was  in  a  ticklish  posi- 
tion. Had  he  a  right  to  examine  the  contents  of 
this  strong  box?  If  discovered  by  any  one,  what 
would  be  the  outcome?  Even  the  fact  that  he  was 
in  a  way  connected  with  the  law  might  not  clear 
him. 

But  he  felt  he  must  take  some  risks.  He  knew 
the  sentiment  against  Margaret  Langmore,  and 
knew  that  sentiment  in  a  country  place  is  almost 
equal  to  a  conviction.  The  coroner  had  convinced 
himself  that  the  girl  was  guilty,  and  would  go 
to  any  extremity  to  prove  the  correctness  of  his 
theory. 

The  safe  was  divided  into  several  compart- 
ments, and  on  one  side  was  a  set  of  three  metallic 
drawers.  The  open  side  contained  several  ac- 
count books  and  legal  and  patent  papers.  The  top 
drawer  contained  some  old  jewelry  and  a  gold 
watch,  the  middle  drawer  some  bank  bills,  not 
over  a  hundred  dollars,  all  told. 

The  bottom  drawer  was  locked,  but  the  key 
for  it  lay  in  the  middle  drawer,  so  Adam  Adams 


60          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

opened  the  receptacle  with  ease.  As  he  did  so,  a 
cry  of  astonishment  came  to  his  lips,  and  he  re- 
pressed it  with  difficulty. 

The  drawer  was  packed  with  new  and  crisp  onc- 
hundred-dollar  bills,  all  on  the  same  bank,  the 
Excelsior  National,  of  New  York  City.  There 
were  thirty  of  the  bills,  and  evidently  not  one  of 
them  had  been  in  circulation.  The  detective 
started  as  he  took  them  up,  held  them  to  the  some- 
what dim  light,  and  started  again.  He  paused 
for  a  moment,  as  if  deciding  a  weighty  question. 
Then  he  placed  the  package  of  bank  bills  in  the 
inner  pocket  of  his  coat. 

"These  have  no  right  to  be  here,"  he  muttered. 
"The  only  place  for  them  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
federal  authorities." 

Under  the  bills  lay  several  legal  documents. 
One  was  labeled: 

"Mortgage  of  Matlock  Styles  to  Barry  S. 
Langmore,  $8,000." 

There  were  likewise  two  other  mortgages  be- 
tween the  same  parties,  one  for  $3,000  and  the 
other  for  $5,000. 

"Whoever  Matlock  Styles  is,  he  evidently  owes 
the  Langmore  estate  sixteen  thousand  dollars," 
the  detective  told  himself;  "that  is,  if  the  obliga- 
tions have  not  been  cancelled.  I  wonder  what 
the  mortgages  were  doing  in  with  those  bills?" 


THE    MYSTERY    DEEPENS  61 

"Mr.  Adams!" 

A. soft  call  from  the  window  made  the  detec- 
tive turn  swiftly.  To  his  surprise,  he  saw  Ray- 
mond Case  peering  at  him  through  the  blinds. 
The  young  man's  face  showed  his  perplexity. 

"What  brought  you?"  asked  the  detective.  He 
did  not  relish  being  caught  off  his  guard. 

"I  couldn't  think  of  going  to  bed  at  the  hotel, 
I  was  so  upset.  I  thought,  if  I  came  over  here, 
I  might  discover  something  of  value,  or  help  you 
in  some  way.  I  see  you've  managed  to  get  that 
safe  open.  It  was  certainly  a  clever  piece  of 
work." 

"As  it  happens  opening  the  safe  was  not  my 
work,"  was  the  answer.  "Another  man  opened 
it  and  I  took  the  liberty  of  looking  inside.  But 
I  can't  talk  about  that  here.  Wait  a  minute  and 
I'll  join  you  outside." 

Adam  Adams  swung  the  door  of  the  safe 
open  once  more.  As  he  surmised,  the  combina- 
tion could  be  set  to  a  new  series  of  numbers  with 
ease.  He  fixed  it  to  correspond  with  the  num- 
bers of  his  own  office  safe,  then  closed  the  door, 
gave  the  knob  a  twirl,  and  hurried  from  the 
room  by  the  same  opening  by  which  he  had 
entered. 

"When  I   first  came  up   I  thought  somebody 


62          THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

was  robbing  the  safe,"  said  Raymond  Case,  when 
the  pair  were  at  a  distance  from  the  house. 

"What  did  you  see  me  do?" 

"Take  out  a  package  of  bankbills  and  put 
them  into  your  pocket.  Oh,  I  know  it  must  be 
all  right,  Mr.  Adams.  But  it  looked  queer." 

"I  took  them  for  safe  keeping.  Look  at  them 
for  a  moment.  I'll  strike  a  match  behind  this 
clump  of  trees.  Count  them  over,  too.  It  may 
be  as  well  to  have  a  witness  for  this." 

Raymond  Case  took  the  crisp  bills  and  did  as 
requested. 

"Three  thousand  dollars,"  he  said.  "All 
brand  new  bills  and  each  for  a  hundred  dollars." 

"Exactly,  and  each  on  the  same  bank." 

"So  they  are.     That's  rather  odd;  isn't  it?" 

"And  all  of  the  same  serial  number." 

"Gracious!      Mr.  Adams " 

"Wait.  Mr.  Case,  I  am  going  to  trust  you 
even  as  you  have  trusted  me.  I  want  you  to 
keep  this  a  secret." 

"Certainly,  but " 

"The  bills   are  counterfeit." 


CHAPTER  VII 

ONE  OF  THE   PROFESSION 

"COUNTERFEIT  bank  bills!"  gasped  the  young 
man.  "And  in  Mr.  Langmore's  possession! 
Taken  from  his  safe!  What  does  it  mean?" 

"That  remains  to  be  found  out." 

"This  is — is  astounding!     You  don't  suspect 

that  he  was  in  the  habit — I  mean  that  he " 

Raymond  Case  did  not  know  how  to  go  on. 

"It's  too  early  to  form  a  conclusion.  But  one 
thing  is  certain,  the  counterfeits  were  in  his  pri- 
vate safe,  and  from  all  accounts  that  safe  had  not 
been  opened  since  his  death.  Consequently  he 
must  have  placed  them  there." 

"I  don't  believe  he  dealt  in  counterfeits,"  re- 
turned the  young  man  bluntly. 

"Facts  are  stubborn  things  to  overcome.  Down 
in  the  town  I  learned  that  Mr.  Langmore  used 
to  be  a  comparatively  poor  man.  All  his  wealth 
has  come  to  him  in  the  past  six  years." 

"He  made  his  money  out  of  his  patents  and 
out  of  various  other  schemes." 

63 


64 

"All  of  his  wealth  has  come  to  him  in  the  past 
six  years,"  pursued  the  detective.  "I  happen  to 
know  something  about  these  counterfeits,  which 
the  federal  authorities  have  been  trying  to  trace 
to  their  source.  The  first  of  these  bogus  one 
hundred  dollar  bills  appeared  about  six  years 
ago,  at  a  bank  in  Brooklyn." 

The  heart  of  the  young  man  sank  within  him, 
and  as  he  spoke  his  lips  began  to  quiver. 

"Mr.  Adams,  are  you  going  to  give  this  news 
to  the  world  at  large — to  the  United  States  au- 
thorities— are  you  going  to  brand  Margare't's 
father  as  a  counterfeiter,  or  a  passer  of  queer 
money?  If  you  do  that,  even  if  you  clear  Mar- 
garet, you'll  break  her  heart" 

"I  am  going  to  do  nothing  at  present  but  keep 
on  investigating.  We  have  not  yet  reached  the 
end  of  this  string  by  any  means.  Did  I  not  tell 
you  that  another  opened  the  safe? — a  fellow  who 
has  been  acting  queerly  ever  since  I  caught  sight 
of  him?  He  is  connected  with  this  complicated 
affair,  although  how  still  remains  to  be  seen." 

"Who  was  the  man?" 

"He  gave  his  name  to  the  policeman  as  Jack 
Watkins." 

"I  never  heard  that  name  before.  How  does 
he  look?" 


ONE    OF   THE    PROFESSION  65 

Adam  Adams  described  the  fellow  minutely, 
but  Raymond  Case  shook  his  head. 

"I  can't  place  him.  But  that  is  not  strange," 
he  added.  "I  know  very  few  folks  in  this  neigh- 
borhood." 

"Do  you  know  a  man  named  Matlock  Styles." 

"Not  very  well — I  met  him  once,  when  he  was 
calling  on  Mr.  Langmore  on  business.  He  is  an 
Englishman,  fairly  well  to  do,  who  lives  in  an  old 
colonial  house  on  the  Harper  road,  a  mile  and  a 
half,  I  should  say,  from  here." 

"Do  you  know  what  business  this  Styles  had 
with  Mr.  Langmore?" 

"I  don't  remember  very  well — but  hold  up, 
yes,  I  do.  He  owed  Mr.  Langmore  some  money. 
The  two  put  through  some  sort  of  real  estate 
deal." 

"How  much  did  Styles  owe  Mr.  Langmore?" 

"I  don't  know  exactly,  but  it  was  a  large 
amount,  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand  dollars." 

"What  sort  of  a  man  would  you  take  this 
Styles  to  be?" 

"Oh,  he  is  a  big,  overbearing  Englishman,  one 
of  the  kind  with  mutton<hop  whiskers  and  a  red 
nose.  He -is  a  great  chap  for  fast  horses,  and 
I've  heard  he  has  quite  a  stable  of  them  over  to 
his  place.  He  is  also  a  dog  fancier." 


66         THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"Has  he  been  here  lately?" 

"I  don't  know.  Perhaps  Margaret  could  tell 
you.  But  what  has  this  to  do " 

"Nothing  at  all,  perhaps.  In  the  safe  with  the 
bankbills  were  some  mortgage  papers  given  to 
Mr.  Langmore  by  this  Matlock  Styles.  But  the 
two  may  not  have  the  least  connection  with  each 
other." 

The  two  had  been  walking  away  from  the 
house  and  now  the  detective  turned  back.  As  he 
did  so  he  thought  of  the  bit  of  paper  he  had 
picked  up  in  the  shrubbery.  He  struck  a  match 
with  one  hand  and  held  up  the  slip  with  the 
other.  It  was  a  memorandum,  running  as  follows: 

$8,000 
5,000 
3,000 


$16,000 


$480.00 

Adam  Adams  studied  the  memorandum  with 
interest.  The  amounts  at  the  top  were  those  of 
the  mortgages  given  by  Matlock  Styles  to  Barry 
Langmore.  Evidently  somebody  had  figured  out 
what  the  interest  would  be  at  three  per  cent. 


ONE    OF   THE    PROFESSION  67 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Raymond  Case. 

"A  bit  of  paper  I  picked  up  around  here.  It 
doesn't  seem  to  amount  to  anything.  But  I  think 
we  had  better  part  now,  Mr.  Case.  If  I  have 
anything  to  report  I'll  see  you  to-morrow  at  the 
Beechwood  Hotel." 

The  pair  separated,  and  Adam  Adams  watched 
the  young  man  disappear  down  the  road,  the 
latter  feeling  that  he  ought  not  to  interfere  with 
the  work  of  the  man  he  had  engaged  to  unravel 
the  mystery.  In  deep  thought  the  detective  went 
back  to  the  neighborhood  of  the  mansion  and 
stationed  himself  where  he  could  get  a  look  at 
the  library  windows. 

Adam  Adams  felt  that  the  case  was  growing 
deeper  and  deeper.  The  finding  of  the  counter- 
feit banknotes  in  Barry  Langmore's  safe  was 
astonishing.  Where  this  thread  of  the  skein 
would  lead  to  he  could  not  imagine. 

"I  seem  to  be  uncovering  more  than  I  bargained 
for,"  he  mused.  "If  the  man  was  innocent  of 
all  wrong-doing  why  didn't  he  turn  those  bills 
over  to  the  authorities  ?  Were  he  alive  we  should 
certainly  say  he  was  caught  with  the  goods.  If 
this  comes  out  it  will  create  as  much  of  a  sensa- 
tion as  the  murder  itself." 

Two  hours  went  by  and  still  the  detective  kept 
to  his  post.  He  was  used  to  waiting — had  he 


68         THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

not  waited  in  the  bitter  cold  six  hours  to  clear 
that  poor  Jew? — and  he  knew  that  sooner  or 
later  the  man  calling  himself  Jack  Watkins  would 
reappear. 

A  light  flared  up  in  the  library  and  then  was 
turned  lower.  He  crept  to  the  window  and 
looked  in  as  before.  The  strange  man  was  at 
the  safe,  working  the  combination  knob  back- 
ward and  forward. 

In  spite  of  the  seriousness  of  the  situation, 
Adam  Adams  was  forced  to  smile.  The  man 
worked  hurriedly  and  tried  the  combination  a 
score  of  times.  He  muttered  something  under 
his  breath  which  may  well  be  omitted  from 
these  printed  pages.  He  even  got  into  a  heavy 
perspiration  and  had  to  pause  to  wipe  his  fore- 
head with  his  handkerchief. 

"Hang  the  luck!"  he  went  on.  "I  had  it  open 
before.  What's  got  into  the  confounded  com- 
bination?" 

Again  he  tried  to  work  the  figures.  But  it  was 
all  of  no  avail,  and  at  last  he  arose,  fists 
clenched,  and  with  a  face  full  of  baffled  anger. 
He  stalked  around  the  library,  gazed  at  the 
strong  box  several  times,  and  then  quit  the  apart- 
ment. 

Waiting  once  more,  the  detective  presently  saw 
the  man  come  from  the  house  and  walk  toward 


ONE    OF   THE    PROFESSION  69 

the  road.  Following,  he  saw  the  fellow  hurry 
past  the  Bardon  home  and  then  into  a  patch  of 
timber.  Here  he  had  a  horse,  and  in  a  moment 
more  would  have  been  in  the  saddle  had  not 
Adam  Adams  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"Hi!  what's  this,  a  hold-up?"  cried  the  man, 
evidently  frightened.  "Let  go  of  me!"  And  he 
tried  to  pull  away  and  then  attempted  to  draw  a 
revolver  from  a  hip  pocket. 

"Stop !  I  am  not  going  to  hurt  you,"  was  the 
calm  reply  from  the  detective.  "I  want  to  talk 
to  you,  that's  all." 

"Really?"  came  with  a  sneer.  "A  fine  time  of 
night  to  hold  a  man  up.  Be  quick,  for  I  am  in  a 
hurry." 

"I  want  you  to  explain  several  things  to  me," 
went  on  Adam  Adams  calmly. 

"Explain?    To  you?" 

"That  is  what  I  said.  You  can  take  your 
choice.  Either  explain  or  consider  yourself  under 
arrest." 

"Eh?    Say,  are  you  crazy?" 

"Not  at  all." 

"An  officer  of  the  law,  I  suppose." 

"I  am — in  a  way." 

"Working  on  this  Langmore  affair?" 

"Yes." 

"Have  you  been  following  me?" 


70         THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"I've  done  more  than  that — I've  been  watching 
you." 

"What!     How  long?" 

"Quite  a  long  while.  I  saw  you  m  the  library, 
twice,  and  down  to  the  brook." 

The  man  started  and  was  evidently  much  put 
out.  Then  he  forced  a  smile  to  his  face. 

"Much  obliged  for  playing  the  spy,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

"Down  at  the  brook  you  had  a  pair  of  Miss 
Langmore's  shoes.  What  were  you  doing  with 
them?" 

"Did  you  see  me  with  the  shoes?" 

"I  did,  and  I  saw  you  with  the  silk  shirtwaist." 

"Ah!     Anything  else?" 

"I  saw  you  at  the  safe  in  the  library  of  the 
mansion." 

"When,  now?" 

"Now  and  some  hours  ago.  You  may  as  well 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it." 

"I  will,  if  you  will  tell  me  who  you  are." 

"I  am  Adam  Adams,  of  New  York  City." 

The  strange  man  let  out  a  hissing  sound  be- 
tween his  teeth.  Then  of  a  sudden  he  gave  a 
wild,  unnatural  laugh. 

"Shake  hands,  Mr.  Adams,"  he  said,  putting 
out  his  hand.  "I  know  you  by  reputation  even 
if  not  personally.  You  see,  your  reputation  is 


ONE   OF   THE   PROFESSION  71 

so  much  larger  than  my  own."  He  laughed 
againr  a  sound  which  grated  on  the  detective's 
nerves.  "I  am  John  S.  Watkins,  of  Bryport.  I 
am  connected  with  the  United  States  secret 
service." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WHAT    CEPHAS    CARBOY    SAW 

THERE  was  a  brief  pause  after  the  man  from 
Bryport  made  his  announcement.  Adam  Adams 
tried  hard  to  see  his  face  clearly,  but  in  the  gloom 
this  was  impossible. 

"Perhaps  you  do  not  believe  me,"  said  John 
Watkins.  "I  can  easily  prove  what  I  say." 

"Why  shouldn't  I  believe  you?" 

"Because  you  were  on  the  point  of  arresting 
me,  which  proves  that  you  took  me  to  be — some- 
thing else." 

"How  long  have  you  been  connected  with  the 
secret  service?" 

"About  three  years.  That  is  why  I  know,  you 
so  well." 

"Did  your  work  as  a  secret  service  man  bring 
you  to  this  place?" 

"Excuse  me,  but  that  is  my  business.  If  you 
are  working  on  this  case,  well  and  good.  But  it  is 
not  fair  to  try  to  steal  any  of  my  thunder." 

"So  far  as  I  am  concerned  you  shall  get  full 
72 


73 

credit  for  what  you  may  do  on  this  case,  Mr. 
Watkins,"  said  Adam  Adams  stiffly.  "But  I 
should  like  to  understand  several  points." 

"About  the  shoes  and  the  shirtwaist,  I  suppose. 
I  got  the  shoes  from  the  house  to  make  certain 
that  some  footprints  on  the  bank  of  the  brook 
had  been  made  by  Miss  Langmore." 

"What  about  the  shirtwaist?" 

"It  was  there  when  I  came,  and  I  left  it  there, 
as  it  did  not  seem  to  have  much  of  a  connection 
with  the  affair." 

"Do  you  think  you  had  a  right  to  tamper  with 
the  safe  in  the  library?" 

"Considering  certain  circumstances,  which  I  do 
not  intend  just  now  to  disclose  to  you,  I  think  I 
had  a  right." 

"Did  you  take  anything  from  the  safe?" 

"Not  a  thing.  In  fact,  I  couldn't  get  the  safe 
open.  You  must  know  this,  if  you  saw  me  a  while 
ago." 

"You  opened  the  door  the  first  time." 

"I  do  not  deny  it.  The  policeman  interrupted 
me  and  I  shut  the  box  up.  When  I  came  back  the 
combination  had  gotten  away  from  me." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Where  are  you  stopping,  Mr.  Watkins,  in 
case  I  wish  to  communicate  with  you  again?" 

"At  Hager's  Hotel,  in  Sidham.     But  I  am  on 


74         THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

the  jump  nearly  all  the  time,"  and  the  secret 
service  man  laughed  again.  "Anything  else?" 

"No." 

"Then  I'll  be  going.  I've  got  to  send  a  long 
secret  message  before  I  go  to  bed  and  it  takes 
time  to  follow  the  code,  you  know  that.  Good- 
night," and  in  a  moment  more  John  Watkins  was 
on  his  horse  and  riding  away  at  a  good  rate  of 
speed. 

Adam  Adams  watched  his  departure  with  a 
variety  of  thoughts  chasing  each  other  through 
his  mind.  The  man  must  be  what  he  claimed,  he 
had  shown  his  badge  on  the  inside  of  his  coat, 
and  been  perfectly  willing  to  prove  his  words. 

"If  he  is  honest,  he  must  be  on  the  trail  of 
those  counterfeits,  and  perhaps  it  was  my  duty 
to  tell  him  of  my  discovery,"  mused  the  detective. 
"It  is  curious  how  these  two  cases  have  wound 
around  each  other,  or  is  it  all  one  case?" 

Concluding  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be 
done  that  night,  Adam  Adams  took  himself  to 
the  Beechwood  Hotel,  secured  a  room,  and  was 
soon  in  the  land  of  dreams.  He  arose  early,  ob- 
tained his  breakfast,  and  without  waiting  to  meet 
Raymond  Case,  started  off  to  interview  Doctor 
Bird,  one  of  the  two  persons  Margaret  Lang- 
more  had  seen  go  past  the  mansion  about  the  time 
the  tragedy  was  occurring. 


WHAT    CEPHAS    CARBOY    SAW         75 

He  found  the  doctor  an  individual  with  an 
exaggerated  idea  of  his  own  importance.  It  was 
hard  to  bind  him  down  to  tell  what  he  actually 
knew  and  it  took  the  detective  the  best  part  of  an 
hour  to  learn  that  the  physician  knew  nothing  of 
real  importance. 

A  short  while  later  Adam  Adams  learned  that 
the  farmer  who  had  been  seen  going  past  the 
mansion  was  named  Cephas  Carboy.  He  was  a 
strange  individual,  of  no  education,  who  lived  on 
a  hillside  road,  running  some  distance  to  the  rear 
of  the  Langmore  house.  When  the  detective  ar- 
rived there  he  found  Carboy  sitting  under  a  tree 
smoking  a  short  clay  pipe.  The  farm  was  a  neg- 
lected one,  the  house  about  ready  to  tumble  down, 
and  in  the  dooryard  were  half  a  dozen  dirty  and 
ragged  children,  who  scampered  out  of  sight  on 
the  approach  of  a  stranger. 

"Good  morning,"  said  Adam  Adams  cheer- 
fully. He  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  fellow  before 
him  was  a  thoroughly  shiftless  character. 

"Mornin'  to  you,"  was  the  short  response. 

"This  is  Mr.  Cephas  Carboy?" 

"Cephas  Carboy's  my  name — ain't  much  of  a 
mister  to  it,"  and  the  man  grinned  feebly. 

"You're  the  man  I  want  to  see,  Carboy,"  and 
the  detective  took  a  seat  on  a  log  close  by. 


76         THE  MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

"Want  to  see  me?  What  fer?  I  don't  know 
you." 

"I  want  to  see  you  about  that  Langmore 
murder." 

The  shiftless  man  stared  and  withdrew  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth  with  trembling  fingers. 

"I  didn't  have  nuthin*  to  do  with  that.  They 
can't  pitch  it  onto  me  nohow!  I  came  past  the 
house,  that's  all  I  did.  I  didn't  go  inside  the 
gate,  I  didn't.  It  was  Miss  Langmore  did  that 
murder — or  else  Mary  Billings." 

"Did  you  see  anybody  around  the  place  when 
you  went  past?" 

"Not  a  soul." 

"What  were  you  doing  around  there?" 

"Are  you  an — an  officer?" 

"Perhaps  I  am.  Anyway,  you  had  best  answer 
my  questions." 

"I  went  down  to  Hopgood's  place,  to  sell  some 
fish  I  had  caught — Mr.  Hopgood  can  prove  it. 
Then  I  came  straight  home." 

"Which  way  did  you  go  to  get  to  Hopgood's?" 

"Took  the  road  yonder,  around  the  hill,  and 
crossed  the  brook  at  Peabody's  bridge — Peabody 
can  prove  that,  too.  He  was  out  in  the  hayfield 
and  saw  me." 

Adam  Adams  took  a  look  at  the  road  men- 
tioned. At  a  turn  there  was  a  cleared  spot 


WHAT    CEPHAS    CARBOY    SAW         77 

through  the  woods  and  a  fair  sight  could  be 
caught  of  the  rear  of  the  Langmore  mansion  and 
of  the  automobile  shed. 

"Come  here,"  he  called  to  Cephas  Carboy,  and 
when  the  shiftless  man  had  shuffled  up,  he  con- 
tinued: "You  say  you  walked  this  way.  When 
you  got  to  this  spot  did  you  happen  to  look  over 
to  the  Langmore  house?" 

UI— er— I  did." 

"What  did  you  see?  Come  now,  tell  me  the 
exact  truth,"  and  Adam  Adams  put  as  much  of 
sternness  as  possible  in  his  tone. 

"I  saw — -See  here,  I  don't  want  to  get  in  no 
trouble,  I  don't.  I'm  a  peaceful  man,  an'  I  tend 
to  my  own  business,  I  do.  You  ain't  a-goin'  to 
drag  me  into  court." 

"I  don't  want  to  get  you  into  trouble,  Carboy 
— but  I  must  know  the  truth  of  this.  I  take  it 
that  you  are  poor.  Am  I  right?" 

"Humph!  Do  I  look  like  I  was  rollin'  in 
wealth?" 

"Then  a  five  dollar  bill  means  something  to 
you,  eh?" 

The  shiftless  man  opened  his  eyes  widely. 

"Does  it?  Say,  I  ain't  had  a  fiver  in  my  fist 
fer  a  month,  two  months !  Farmin'  don't  pay, 
an'  it  ain't  easy  to  git  work  outside,  the  season's 
been  that  poor.  If  you " 


78         THE  MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

"Tell  me  all  you  know,  and  perhaps  I'll  give 
you  five  dollars." 

"Ain't  foolin'?" 

"No.  There's  a  dollar  on  account,"  and  the 
detective  passed  over  the  bill.  The  shiftless  man 
clutched  it  eagerly,  looked  at  it  to  make  certain 
that  it  was  real  money,  and  rammed  it  into  the 
pocket  of  his  greasy  vest. 

"Thanks,  sir,"  he  murmured.  Then  he  ran 
his  hand  through  his  somewhat  matted  hair. 
"Mind  now,  I  can't  give  you  this  fer-  dead  cer- 
tain," he  commenced. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"I  think  it  happened,  but  I  can't  swear  to  it. 
That  house  is  putty  far  off,  remember." 

"What  do  you  think  you  saw?" 

"I  saw  a  man  run  across  the  garden.  He  had 
a  satchel  in  his  hand  and  he  was  in  a  hurry.  He 
slipped  and  fell  and  his  hat  rolled  off.  Then  he 
got  up,  put  on  his  hat,  and  I  lost  sight  of  him 
behind  the  bushes." 

"How  did  the  man  look?" 

"Wait  up,  that  ain't  all.  I'm  certain  of  that 
part  of  it,  but  I  ain't  so  sure  of  the  rest.  I 
waited  here  a  minit,  because  my  wife  was  calling 
to  me  to  git  some  groceries  when  I  came  back.  I 
just  started  to  fill  my  pipe  when  I  looked  over 
there  again  and  I  saw  a  man  run  from  the  auto- 


WHAT    CEPHAS    CARBOY    SAW         79 

mobile  shed  to  the  house.  The  bushes  was  in 
the  way,  but  hang  me  if  I  don't  think  he  went  in 
by  a  winder  instead  of  a  door." 

"You  are  sure  you  saw  him  go  toward  the 
house?" 

"Yes,  that  was  plain  enough,  although  he 
seemed  to  be  sneakin'  along  the  bushes." 

"Was  it  the  same  man?" 

"It  must  have  been,  but  I  couldn't  see  his 
valise,  because  he  was  behind  the  bushes." 

"How  did  the  man  look?" 

"He  was  a  putty  heavy  fellow  and  he  was 
dressed  in  a  light  gray  suit  and  wore  a  soft  hat 
to  match." 

"Was  the  valise  a  light  or  a  dark  one?" 

"Light." 

"Could  you  see  anything  else?" 

"No." 

"Did  the  man  have  anything  besides  the 
valise?" 

"Not  that  I  could  see.  When  he  fell  and  his 
hat  flew  off  I  saw  that  he  had  a  head  of  heavy 
dark  hair." 

"And  you  are  certain  about  the  suit  being  a 
light  gray  one  and  the  soft  hat  matched  it?" 

"Yes,  I'm  dead  sure  of  that." 

"What  time  was  this?" 

"About  half  an  hour  before  I  passed  the  house. 


80          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

I  stopped  at  Peabody's  to  chat  a  while  before  I 
crossed  his  bridge." 

"Did  you  ever  see  the  man  before?" 

"Not  that  I  remember." 

"You  didn't  see  him  after  that?" 

"No." 

Adam  Adams  drew  out  a  roll  of  bills  and 
counted  out  four  dollars,  which  amount  he  passed 
over  to  the  fellow  he  had  been  interviewing. 

"That  makes  the  five  I  promised  you,  Carboy. 
Now  then,  will  you  do  me  a  favor?" 

"Certainly,  sir,  anything  you  waht." 

"I  merely  want  you  to  keep  what  you  have 
told  me  to  yourself  for  the  present." 

"Oh,  that's  easy — unless  somebuddy  tries  to 
git  me  into  trouble." 

"I  don't  think  that  will  happen — if  you  keep 
your  mouth  shut." 

"Then  I'll  be  as  mum  as  an  oyster,"  answered 
Cephas  Carboy  decidedly. 

"I  may  be  along  to  see  you  again  soon,"  con- 
tinued Adam  Adams,  and  then  he  drove  away  in 
the  buggy  that  had  brought  him  to  the  vicinity. 

He  allowed  his  horse  to  walk,  for  he  was  in 
a  more  thoughtful  mood  than  ever.  He  was 
thinking  of  a  man  he  had  met  the  day  before, 
in  a  suit  of  gray  and  with  a  soft  hat  of  the  same 
color.  The  man  had  been  Tom  Ostrello. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ON   THE   TRAIN 

"THIS  is  clearing  itself  by  growing  more  com- 
plicated." 

Such  was  the  deduction  of  the  detective  after 
he  had  reviewed  the  situation  carefully.  Was  it 
possible  that  the  son  of  the  woman  who  had  been 
murdered  was  guilty  of  the  double  tragedy?  He 
remembered  what  he  had  been  told  about  Tom 
Ostrello  and  his  wayward  brother  Dick,  and  how 
mother  and  son  had  had  an  exciting  meeting  on 
the  day  previous  to  the  tragedy. 

"I  rather  think  it  will  pay  to  investigate  a  little 
further  along  this  line,"  thought  Adam  Adams. 
"More  than  likely  he  came  here  for  money,  either 
for  himself  or  his  brother  Dick.  If  his  mother 
did  not  have  it  and  wanted  it  she  would  have  to 
go  to  Mr.  Langmore  for  it.  That  might  cause  a 
bitterness  all  around.  Or  again,  he  might  have 
thought  that  if  his  step-father  were  dead  his 
mother  would  inherit  his  money  and  so  plotted  one 
murder,  which,  when  he  was  discovered,  ended 

81 


82          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

in  a  second.  It  will  do  no  harm  to  have  a  talk 
with  this  young  man." 

He  reached  the  Langmore  mansion  once  more 
to  find  that  Tom  Ostrello  had  departed  for  the 
city  on  necessary  business  but  was  coming  back 
before  night.  Then  at  the  hotel  he  found  a  mes- 
sage from  his  own  office  calling  him  to  New  York. 

"You  are  going  away,  Mr.  Adams?"  said  Ray- 
mond Case,  who  chanced  to  see  him  departing. 

"Not  for  long.  I'll  be  back  to-night  or  to- 
morrow." 

"Anything  new?" 

"Nothing  worth  talking  about,  yet.  I  must 
hurry  to  catch  the  train.  What  are  you  going  to 
do?" 

"I  am  waiting  for  the  inquest.  It  will  be  a 
terrible  trial  for  Margaret."  And  the  young 
man's  face  showed  his  concern. 

"Tell  her  for  me  to  make  the  best  of  it,"  an- 
swered Adam  Adams  and  hurried  to  the  depot. 
The  train  was  just  coming  in  and  he  saw  Tom 
Ostrello  get  on  board,  and  he  entered  the  car 
directly  behind  the  commercial  traveler.  The 
young  man  passed  through  to  the  smoker  and  the 
detective  did  the  same.  Two  seats  were  vacant, 
directly  across  the  aisle  from  each  other  and  each 
took  one.  Presently  Ostrello  looked  at  Adam 
Adams  and  started  slightly  and  then  bowed. 


ON    THE    TRAIN  83 

"Excuse  me,  but  I  think  I  saw  you  up  to  the 
Langmore  house,"  he  began. 

"Yes,  I  called  on  Miss  Langmore.  I  believe 
you  are  Mrs.  Langmore's  son." 

"Yes.  Come  over,  won't  you?"  Ostrello 
moved  towards  the  window  of  the  car.  "I've 
got  to  have  a  smoke  to  quiet  my  nerves,  I'm  so 
upset.  Will  you  have  one?"  And  he  presented 
a  case  full  of  choice  Havana  cigars. 

"It  must  have  upset  you — it's  enough  to  upset 
anybody,"  answered  Adam  Adams,  as  they  lit 
up.  "It's  a  fearful  happening,  fearful." 

"You  are  acting  for  Margaret,  I  heard." 

"Yes — if  there  is  a  chance  to  do  anything.  Do 
you  know  anything  of  the  tragedy?" 

"Not  a  thing,  outside  of  what  I  have  heard. 
When  I  got  the  telegram  I  was  fairly  stunned. 
But  let  me  tell  you  one  thing." 

"Well?" 

"I  don't  think  Margaret  is  guilty.  A  girl  like 
her  couldn't  do  such  a  cold-blooded  deed.  Why, 
it's  enough  to  make  a  man  shiver  to  think  of  it. 
It  would  take  a  hardened  criminal  to  do  such  a 
thing.  It's  absurd  to  even  suspect  her." 

"What  is  your  theory  of  the  murders?" 

"I  hardly  know  what  to  think.  If  the  house 
had  been  robbed  I  would  say  tramps  did  it." 

"But  how?" 


84          THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"I  don't  know,  excepting  the — er — both  w«re 
smothered.  But  let  us  change  the  subject.  It 
breaks  me  all  up  to  think  about  it.  I  thought  a 
whole  lot  of  my  mother." 

"Where  is  your  brother?" 

"I  don't  know  exactly.  He  was  in  Los  An- 
geles the  last  I  heard  of  him.  I  have  sent  mes- 
sages to  half  a  dozen  places,  but  so  far  have  re- 
ceived no  reply." 

"He  is  a  commercial  traveler  like  yourself?" 

"He  was,  up  to  two  weeks  ago.  Traveled  for 
a  paint  house,  but  he  and  the  firm  had  a  row  and 
Dick  quit.  He's  a  rolling  stone,  and  that  is  why 
I  can't  just  locate  him." 

"Do  you  represent  a  paint  house,  too?"  ques- 
tioned Adam  Adams,  after  a  pause,  during  which 
he  appeared  to  enjoy  the  really  fragrant  Havana 
Tom  Ostrello  had  tended  him. 

"No,  I'm  with  a  drug  house  and  have  been 
for  four  years,  one  of  the  best  in  the  country, 
Alexander  &  Company,  of  Rochester,  New  York. 
I  am  their  salesman  for  New  York  and  the  East- 
ern States.  We  make  some  of  the  most  noted 
preparations  in  the  trade." 

"Alexander  &  Company,  of  Rochester,"  mused 
Adam  Adams,  thinking  of  the  bit  of  paper  he 
had  picked  up  from  under  the  safe.  "I  believe  I 


ON    THE    TRAIN  85 

have  seen  their  place.  Let  me  see,  what  street  is 
it  on?" 

"Wadley  street  and  runs  through  to  Hill — a 
fine  six-story  concern,  with  a  laboratory  that  is 
second  to  none." 

"Yes,  I  remember  it  now.  I  suppose  you  must 
have  a  pretty  good  position  with  them." 

"Fair.  I  think  they  ought  to  raise  my  salary," 
answered  Tom  Ostrello.  He  stretched  himself. 
"I  feel  sleepy — didn't  get  a  wink  last  night. 
When  this  affair  is  over  I  am  going  to  ask  for  a 
week's  vacation." 

"I  don't  blame  you,"  answered  Adam  Adams, 
with  a  quiet  smile. 

He  settled  back  to  smoke  and  his  companion 
did  the  same,  and  thus  the  remainder  of  the  trip 
to  the  city  passed.  As  he  smoked  the  detective 
revolved  the  new  revelation  in  his  mind.  Tom 
Ostrello  represented  the  very  drug  firm  whose 
advertisement  had  appeared,  in  part,  on  the  bit 
of  paper  picked  up  from  under  the  library  safe. 

"And  he  was  there  hunting  for  something," 
thought  the  detective.  "Was  it  for  that  bit  of 
paper  or  for  the  something  that  he  secured  in  his 
mother's  room?" 

At  the  depot  the  pair  separated.  Adam  Adams 
lost  no  time  in  visiting  his  office,  where  his  as- 
sistant awaited  him  anxiously. 


86          THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

"Well,  Letty,  how  are  you  this  morning?"  he 
said  pleasantly,  as  he  dropped  into  his  chair. 

He  gave  the  girl  a  bright  smile  and  she  smiled 
in  return.  Letty  Bernard  was  an  orphan,  the 
daughter  of  one  of  his  former  friends,  and  he 
took  a  fatherly  interest  in  her.  She  lived  with  a 
second  cousin,  but  wished  to  be  independent  and 
so  the  detective  had  given  her  the  position  in  his 
office,  a  place  she  filled  with  credit.  She  was 
short  and  plump  and  had  a  wealth  of  curly  hair 
that  strayed  over  her  forehead. 

"The  Chief  asked  me  to  give  you  these  papers," 
said  the  assistant.  "You  are  to  sign  all  three." 

"Urn!  Then  that's  the  end  of  the  Soper  case. 
Anything  else?" 

"Glackey  was  in.  He  told  me  he  had  tracked 
the  German  and  would  report  in  full  by  to-mor- 
row. He  thinks  you  were  right  and  the  German 
is  the  man." 

"What  else?" 

"A  Mrs.  Caven-Demuth  was  here.  Wished  to 
know  if  you  ever  found  lost  dogs." 

"Great  Scott!     Dogs!" 

"She  said  her  pet  cocker-spaniel  had  disap- 
peared and  she  was  willing  to  spend  five  hundred 
dollars  on  finding  him." 

"I  am  no  dog  detective.    Send  her  to  McMom- 


ON    THE    TRAIN  87 

mie."  McMommie  was,  as  it  is  easy  to  guess,  a 
rival. 

"I  sent  her  to  police  headquarters." 

"And  is  that  all?" 

"Mr.  Folett  telegraphed  that  he  would  be  here 
at  ten." 

"It's  after  that  now — it's  nearly  noon.  You 
can  go  to  lunch  if  you  wish.  There's  the  door — 
Hullo,  it's  Mr.  Folett  now.  Be  back  in  an  hour." 

"Yes,  Uncle  Adam,"  answered  the  girl.  She 
always  called  him  uncle,  since  he  had  taken  such 
an  interest  in  her.  She  went  out  as  the  caller 
entered,  and  left  the  two  men  talking  over  a  busi- 
ness matter  which  has  nothing  to  do  with  our 
story. 

It  was  two  o'clock  before  Adam  Adams  found 
himself  free  once  more.  He  procured  a  lunch 
and  then  took  a  subway  train  halfway  uptown. 
He  walked  two  blocks  westward  and  ascended  the 
steps  of  a  fine  brown-stone  residence.  He  asked 
for  Doctor  Calkey  and  was  ushered  into  a  private 
den,  where  the  doctor,  a  tall,  spare  man  of  sixty, 
soon  joined  him. 

"My  good  friend  Adams!"  cried  the  doctor, 
shaking  hands  warmly.  "Where  have  you  kept 
yourself?  Surely  you  have  not  been  to  see  me  for 
a  year,  or  is  it  longer?  I  have  missed  you  so 


88          THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

much — and  the  comforting  smokes  we  had  to- 
gether! Why  did  you  desert  me?  You  knew 
I  could  not  come  to  you — that  I  never  go  out. 
And  you  do  not  bring  any  business  to  me " 

"I  had  none  to  bring,  and  I  have  been  very 
busy.  But  I  have  missed  our  meetings,  I  must 
confess." 

"Ah,  I  am  glad  to  learn  I  was  not  entirely  for- 
gotten. And  you  have  been  busy,  and  still  noth- 
ing for  Rudolph  Calkey  to  do,  nothing  to  analyze, 
nothing  to  dissect " 

"I've  got  a  knot  now  for  you." 

"Good!  good!  I  trust  it  is  a  good  complica- 
tion— I  love  them  so — there  is  such  a  satisfac- 
tion when  the  end  is  reached.  But  not  yet — no, 
not  yet.  A  glass  of  wine  first — something  prime 
— I  imported  it  myself,  so  that  I  would  know 
what  I  am  getting." 

The  wine  was  soon  forthcoming  and  then  a 
cigar  for  the  detective  and  a  pipe  for  the  doctor. 
At  last  the  latter  threw  himself  into  an  old  easy 
chair  and  gazed  at  his  caller  expectantly. 

"I  am  ready  to  untie  the  knot,"  he  said.  "What 
is  it?" 


CHAPTER  X 

AN    AFFAIR    OF    THE    HEART 

THERE  was  a  moment  of  silence. 

"Briefly  put,  doctor,  the  case  is  this,"  said 
Adam  Adams.  "I  want  to  know  if  there  is  any- 
thing known  to  the  medical  world,  a  powder  or 
something  of  that  sort,  strong  enough  to  kill  a 
person  if  he  should  breathe  of  it." 

"A  powder  strong  enough  to  kill  a  person?" 
The  brow  of  the  old  physician  contracted.  "It 
would  have  to  be  very  powerful  to  do  that.  You 
mean  if  a  person  was  boxed  up  with  it — like  one 
killed  by  gas?" 

"No,  not  at  all.  I  mean  a  powder  that  could 
be  held  to  a  person's  nose  and  mouth  in  the  open, 
when  it  would  make  that  person  sick  and  give  him 
cramps  perhaps." 

"And  kill  him?" 

"Yes." 

The  old  doctor  rubbed  his  hands  in  thought. 
"That  is  a  subject  for  speculation.  Certain  cyan- 
ide compounds  might  be  powerful  enough  to  do 
so  under  certain  conditions.  Any  real  dry  powder 

89 


90          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

would  choke  a  person  if  he  got  a  big  dose  of  it. 
I  heard  of  a  boy  who  came  near  dying  as  the 
result  of  breathing  in  a  quantity  of  extra  dry 
licorice  powder.  But  he  was  smothered  and  did 
not  have  cramps." 

"Nothing  in  the  shape  of  any  foreign  com- 
pound? You  once  showed  me  a  Turkish  liquid 
that  burnt  when  water  was  poured  on  it,  and 
dyed  everything  blood  red." 

"Ah,  yes,  the  fozeska,  something  truly  danger- 
ous. But  I  know  of  nothing But  hold !" 

The  doctor  clapped  his  hands  together.  "Yes! 
yes!  That  would  do  it,  that  and  that  only." 

"What?" 

"I  had  a  sample  of  it  given  to  me  some  six 
months  ago.  It  was  called  yamlang-peholo,  and 
was  made  in  China,  from  the  roots  of  the  yam- 
lang  bush — a  rare  growth  found  only  in  the  west- 
ern part  of  the  country.  By  many  Chinamen  the 
yamlang  bush  is  supposed  to  be  accursed,  and 
whenever  they  come  near  one  they  utter  a  prayer 
for  deliverance  from  its  evils.  If  you  sleep  near 
the  yamlang  bush  it  will  make  you  very  sick." 

"And  that  powder,  what  did  it  look  like?" 

"It  was  blue  at  first  but  on  contact  with  the 
air  quickly  changed  to  brownish-white  and  lost 
itself,  it  was  so  fine." 

"Evaporated?" 


AN   AFFAIR   OF   THE   HEART  91 

"You  can  call  it  that  if  you  wish.  It  was  in- 
tense. -I  held  it  at  arms'  length,  yet  it  made  me 
sick  and  I  had  cramps  for  over  an  hour  after- 
wards." 

"It  would  have  killed  you  if  you  had  placed  it 
to  your  mouth  or  nose?" 

"Not  the  slightest  doubt  of  it." 
"May  I  ask  where  you  got  the  stuff?" 
"It  was  imported  into  this  country  by  a  drug 
firm  merely  as  a  curiosity.     They  put  it  up  in  tiny 
vials  which  I  suppose  were  sent  around  to  differ- 
ent persons  like  myself.     It  was  a  dangerous  piece 
of  business  and  I  gave  them  no  credit  for  doing 
it." 

"What  was  the  name  of  the  firm  ?" 
"I  would  not  tell  everybody,  but  I  know  I  can 
trust  you  to  keep  a  secret.  The  firm  was  Alex- 
ander &  Company,  of  Rochester,  who  stand  very 
high  in  the  trade.  I  buy  many  things  from  them, 
from  time  to  time,  and  their  traveling  man,  a 
Mr.  Ostrello,  gave  me  the  powder  when  he  called. 
He  told  me  how  the  firm  had  experimented  on  a 
dog  and  an  ox.  Both  died  in  less  than  two  min- 
utes, and  each  with  cramps.  But  after  death 
neither  animal  showed  the  least  trace  of  the 
poison." 

"Wasn't   this   Ostrello    afraid   to   handle    the 
stuff?" 


92          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"Not  as  much  as  I  was.  He  said  he  was  a  bit 
used  to  it.  I  told  him  I  didn't  want  to  get  used 
to  it.  Have  another  glass  of  wine?" 

"No,  I  prefer  to  smoke,  thanks  just  the  same. 
I  am  interested  in  this  yamlang,  as  you  call  it. 
Where  can  I  get  the  stuff?" 

"No  more  of  it  can  be  had.  I  rather  think 
they  got  afraid  of  it.  Wait,  I'll  get  the  vial  it 
was  in.  Perhaps  there  is  a  whiff  left  in  it." 

"Thanks,  but  do  you  think  I  want  to  die?" 
queried  the  detective,  and  gave  a  laugh. 

When  the  empty  vial  was  produced  he  opened 
it  and  took  a  short  sniff.  Then  he  drew  his  breath 
in  sharply.  A  faint  odor  was  perceptible,  the 
same  odor  he  had  detected  in  the  carpet  on  the 
upper  hallway  of  the  Langmore  mansion. 

"Do  you  smell  it?"  questioned  the  physician. 

"Yes,  but  not  very  well.  I  don't  think  it  will 
affect  me  much." 

"I  trust  not,  my  dear  Adams.  We  cannot  af- 
ford to  lose  you.  Now,  what  is  it  all  about?" 

"Another  case,  that's  all.  I  don't  feel  like 
talking  about  it  just  yet.  I'll  give  you  the  par- 
ticulars some  other  time." 

"And  have  I  helped  you?" 

"I  think  you  have." 

"Of  course  there  are  other  powders — and  there 
is  chloroform " 


AN  AFFAIR   OF   THE   HEART          93 

"I  think  we  have  struck  a  clue  in  this.  But  I 
must  be  going." 

"What,  so  soon!"  Rudolph  Calkey  looked 
hurt.  "I  was  thinking  you'd  stay  the  day  out. 
We  could  chat  over  old  times — I'll  order  an 
extra  supper " 

"No,  not  to-day.  When  this  case  is  settled, 
I'll  come  over  and  we'll  make  an  evening  of  it." 
And  then  the  detective  had  to  fairly  tear  himself 
/rom  the  doctor  and  the  house.  They  were  old 
friends  and  had  worked  on  many  a  case  together. 

Once  back  in  his  office  Adam  Adams  smiled 
grimly  to  himself. 

"Now,  Mr.  Tom  Ostrello,  it  looks  as  if  we 
had  you  good  and  hard,"  he  murmured.  "You 
were  seen  around  the  place  at  the  time  of  the 
murder  by  Cephas  Carboy,  you  left  the  bit  of 
paper  in  the  library,  you  quarrelled  at  one  time 
with  Mr.  Langmore  and  also  quarrelled  with  your 
mother.  The  murder  was  committed  by  means 
of  that  deadly  Chinese  powder,  and  you  are  one 
of  the  few  persons  in  this  country  who  knew  of 
the  heathenish  compound.  If  you  are  innocent  I 
rather  reckon  you  have  a  heap  of  explanations  to 
make." 

There  were  two  callers  who  took  an  hour  of 
the  detective's  time,  and  then  he  prepared  to  re- 
turn to  Sidham,  to  learn  if  possible  more  con- 


94          THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

earning  Tom  Ostrello,  and  if  anybody  besides 
Cephas  Carboy  had  seen  him  around  that  vicinity 
on  the  morning  of  the  tragedy. 

"Letty,  I  may  not  be  back  to-night,"  he  re- 
marked, as  he  came  out  into  the  general  office. 
"And  it  may  be  that  I'll  not  be  back  to-morrow." 

"All  right,  Uncle  Adam.  What  shall  I  tell 
Mr.  Capes?" 

"Tell  him  that  that  bond  matter  must  wait. 
He'll  have  to  get  those  numbers  if  he  possibly 
can.  The  other  record  was  destroyed." 

As  Adam  Adams  spoke  he  drew  closer  to  the 
desk  at  which  his  assistant  was  sitting.  He 
glanced  down  at  an  envelope  lying  there,  and 
started  slightly. 

"Where  did  this  come  from,  Letty?"  he  ques- 
tioned. The  envelope  was  postmarked  New  York 
and  the  upper  left-hand  corner  bore  the  notice: 

Return  in  10  days  to 

Alexander  &  Company, 

Wholesale   Druggists, 

22-32  Wadley  Street, 

Rochester,  N.  Y. 

The  girl  glanced  at  the  envelope  and  then  at 
her  employer  and  blushed  deeply. 

"Oh,  why  that — that  is  a  note  from  a  friend 
of  mine." 


AN  AFFAIR   OF   THE   HEART          95 

"A  gentleman  friend,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  Uncle  Adam.  I  met  him  last  winter,  at 
Mrs.  "Daily's  reception.  He  is  a  traveling  sales- 
man for  this  house,"  she  pointed  to  the  notice 
on  the  envelope.  "He  wants  me  to  go  to  the 
theatre  with  him,  and  I  expect  to  go.  Mrs.  Dally 
says  he  is  a  very  nice  young  man.  We — we  have 
been  out  a  number  of  times."  And  the  girl 
blushed  again. 

"I  know  some  parties  connected  with  that  firm. 
What's  the  young  man's  name,  Letty?" 

"Mr.  Tom  Ostrello." 

"Indeed!  And  he  has  invited  you  to  go  to 
the  theatre  with  him?" 

"Yes.  Then  you  know  him,  Uncle  Adam?  I 
didn't  dream  of  that.  Don't  you  think  he  is — is 
rather  nice?" 

"Evidently  you  think  so."  For  some  reason 
the  detective  could  scarcely  steady  his  voice.  He 
was  a  bachelor,  with  only  some  distant  relatives, 
and  he  thought  a  good  deal  of  his  protegee  and 
her  welfare. 

"I — I  do,  Uncle  Adam.  He  treats  me  so 
nicely.  I — I — don't  you  approve  of  him?"  she 
went  on  hastily,  searching  his  face  for  the  smile 
that  usually  rested  there  when  he  spoke  to  her. 

"Why,  I — er — I  don't  know  him  so  well  as 
all  that,  Letty."  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he 


96          THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

was  visibly  confused.  "You  say  he  has  called  on 
you  a  number  of  times?" 

"Yes,  and  he  has  taken  me  out,  let  me  see,  I 
guess  it  must  be  a  dozen  times  all  told.  I — I 
wanted  to  speak  of  this  before,  but  I — well,  I 
couldn't  bring  it  around.  I  hope  you'll  approve, 
Uncle  Adam." 

"Approve?     Of  your  going  out  with  him?" 

"Yes,  and — and "  The  girl  hesitated 

again.  Then  she  arose  and  buried  her  face  on 
his  shoulder.  "Oh!  don't  you  understand,  Uncle 
Adam?" 

"Letty!" 

"He  is  very  nice — I  know  you'll  like  him  when 
you  get  to  really  know  him.  Of  course  he  hasn't 
much  money,  but  I  don't  care  for  that.  You 
always  said  money  didn't  count  for  so  much  any- 
way— that  it  was  character — and  he's  got  that." 

"Hum!"  For  the  life  of  him  Adam  Adams 
could  not  speak.  He  felt  himself  growing  hot 
and  cold  by  turns.  He  caught  the  girl  closer. 
Never  had  he  loved  his  friend's  daughter  so  much 
as  now. 

"I  hoped  you  would  approve,"  she  went  on, 
shyly.  "I — of  course  I  didn't  want  to  leave  you 
— you've  been  so  very  good  to  me  since  papa  and 
mamma  died.  But — but  Tom  doesn't  seem  to 
want  to  wait.  He  has  asked  me  twice  now  and — 


AN  AFFAIR   OF   THE   HEART          97 

and — I  don't  know  how  I  am  going  to  put  him 
off.  He  seems  so  miserable  when  I  say  wait." 

"Asked  you  to  marry  him?" 

"Yes."   ' 

"And  he  wants  you  to  go  to  the  theatre  with 
him — now?" 

"The  invitation  is  for  to-night — he  sent  it  last 
week.  He  has  been  traveling  out  of  town,  but 
he  said  he  would  be  back  some  time  to-day.  I 
want  you  to  meet  him."  She  paused.  "Isn't  it 
all  right,  Uncle  Adam?" 

He  did  not  answer,  and  she  gazed  at  him  curi- 
ously. Then  the  look  in  his  face  made  her  draw 
back,  slowly  and  uncertainly.  At  that  moment  he 
felt  that  the  occupation  of  a  detective  was  the 
most  detestable  in  the  world. 

"You — you  know  something?"  she  gasped. 
"Oh,  Uncle  Adam,  what  is  it?" 


CHAPTER  XI 

AT  THE  CORONER'S  INQUEST 

SlDHAM  was  in  a  state  of  keen  excitement.  No 
such  mystery  as  the  double  tragedy  had  occurred 
in  that  neighborhood  before,  and  all  of  the  in- 
habitants were  anxious  to  hear  the  latest  news 
and  learn  what  the  coroner  and  the  police  were 
going  to  do.  A  hundred  theories  were  afloat, 
all  centering  on  the  one  object — to  find  the  mur- 
derer. 

"Find  him  or  her,  and  swing  him  or  her  to  the 
nearest  tree,"  was  the  verdict  of  many.  "The 
law  is  all  well  enough,  but  this  dastardly  crime 
demaads  an  object  lesson." 

Coroner  Jack  Busby,  who  was  a  dealer  in 
horses,  had  never  had  a  murder  case  before,  and 
was  uncertain  as  to  the  method  of  procedure. 
But  with  the  eyes  of  the  whole  community  on  him 
he  realized  his  importance,  as  he  ran  hither  and 
thither,  to  arrange  for  the  inquest.  He  felt  that 
his  own  little  office  was  altogether  too  small  for 
the  occasion  and  so  arranged  to  bring  off  the 
affair  in  the  general  courtroom. 

98 


AT  THE  CORONER'S  INQUEST    99 

The  place  was  soon  crowded  with  people,  and 
another  crowd  gathered  outside.  The  hour  for 
opening  the  inquest  was  at  hand  and  the  majority 
of  the  witnesses  were  present.  The  coroner, 
short,  fat  and  bald-headed,  looked  around  anx- 
iously and  then  turned  to  the  chief  of  police,  who 
was  near  at  hand. 

"I  don't  see  Miss  Langmore." 

"Neither  do  I,"  answered  the  guardian  of  the 
law,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  as  if  it  was 
none  of  his  especial  business. 

"Yes,  but — ahem!  you  are — ahem!  responsi- 
ble  " 

"She'll  be  here,  coroner,  don't  worry." 

"You  have  had  her  properly  guarded?" 

"Yes.  I  reckon  she's  coming  now,"  and  the 
chief  of  police  nodded  towards  a  side  door  of  the 
courtroom. 

There  was  a  slight  commotion,  and  Margaret 
entered,  escorted  by  Raymond  Case,  and  followed 
by  one  of  the  women  and  the  policeman  who  had 
been  on  guard  at  the  Langmore  mansion.  The 
crowd  arose  to  gaze  at  the  girl  and  to  pass  various 
comments. 

"Mighty  pale,  ain't  she?" 

"Wouldn't  think  a  girl  like  that  could  do  such 
an  awful  thing!" 

"Humph !  you  can't  tell  about  these  high-toned 


100        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

folks.  They'd  do  anything.  Didn't  one  of  them 
millionaires  run  over  two  of  my  hens  with  his 
automobile  an'  never  stop  to  settle  the  damage? 
Don't  tell  me !" 

"Yes,  and  she  detested  her  step-mother-^-the 
hired  girl  told  Mrs.  Brown  so,  an'  she  told  me." 

"Well,  Coroner  Busby  will  git  to  the  bottom 
of  it  putty  quick.  He  told  Lem  Hansom  he  knew 
what  he  was  doin'." 

"He  must  know,  if  he's  as  slick  at  tryin'  folks  as 
he  is  in  a  hoss  dicker,"  returned  an  old  farmer 
who  had  made  a  trade  of  steeds  which  had  proved 
unprofitable  for  him. 

Margaret  was  shown  to  a  chair  and  sat  down, 
with  Raymond  beside  her.  The  young  man  was 
plainly  nervous,  yet  he  did  what  he  could  to  com- 
fort his  companion. 

"Courage,  Margaret,"  he  whispered.  "It  is 
bound  to  come  out  right  in  the  end." 

"I  can  scarcely  see  a  friendly  face,"  she 
faltered,  taking  a  shy  look  around.  "They  all 

think  I  am "  She  could  not  finish,  but  had 

to  bite  her  lip  to  keep  the  tears  from  flowing. 

The  coroner  mounted  the  platform  and  rapped 
on  a  desk  with  his  knuckles. 

"The — ahem!  courtroom  will  come  to  order!" 
he  called  out,  gazing  around  on  all  sides. 


AT   THE   CORONER'S   INQUEST       101 

There  was  a  final  buzz  and  then  the  place  be- 
came quiet,  broken  only  by  the  ticking  of  a  big 
round  clock  on  the  wall. 

"We  are  gathered  here — ahem!  to  inquire  into 
the  mysterious  deaths  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barry 
Langmore,"  went  on  the  coroner. 

"That's  so — an'  we  want  plain  facts,"  put  in 
an  old  farmer,  sitting  well  up  front. 

"Silence!"  cried  the  coroner.  "We  must  have 
silence !" 

"All  right,  Jack,"  replied  the  farmer.  "I 
won't  say  another  word." 

"Silence.  We  cannot  go  on  if  there  is  not  si- 
lence. Ahem!  ahem!  Miss  Langmore!" 

Margaret  arose  and  bowed  slightly.  Then  the 
coroner  swore  her  in  as  a  witness  and  told  her  to 
relate  her  story.  She  could  scarcely  stand  and 
Raymond  brought  her  chair  forward. 

"You  wish  me  to  tell  all  I  know?"  she  asked, 
in  a  faint  but  clear  voice. 

"Everything,"  was  Coroner  Busby's  answer. 

Pausing  for  a  moment  to  collect  her  thoughts, 
she  plunged  into  the  recital,  her  tale  being  merely 
a  repetition  of  that  given  to  Adam  Adams.  When 
she  came  to  tell  how  her  father  had  been  found 
her  voice  broke  and  it  was  fully  a  minute  before 
she  could  go  on.  When  she  had  finished  the 


102        THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

courtroom  was  as  still  as  a  tomb,  save  for  the 
ticking  of  the  clock,  now  sounding  louder  than 
ever. 

"Is  that  all?"  asked  the  coroner,  after  a  painful 
pause. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"They  say,  Miss  Langmore,  that  you  were  not 
on  good  terms  with  your  stepmother." 

"Who  says  so?" 

"It  is  an — ahem!  a  common  rumor.  What 
have  you  to  say  on  that  point?" 

fit  is  true,  sir,"  answered  Margaret,  after  an- 
other pause,  during  which  the  eyes  of  all  in  the 
courtroom  were  fixed  upon  the  girl. 

"It  is  said  that  you  had  violent  quarrels,"  pur- 
sued the  coroner. 

"No  very  violent  quarrels.  Sometimes  we  did 
not  speak  to  each  other  for  days." 

"Then  you  admit  that  you  did  quarrel?" 

"I  do." 

"And  you  also  quarreled  with  your  father?" 

"No,  sir." 

"What,  not  at  all?"  queried  Coroner  Busby, 
elevating  his  eyes  in  surprise,  either  real  or 
affected. 

"We  held  different  opinions  upon  certain  ques- 
tions, but  we  did  not  quarrel." 

"Hum!"     The  coroner  mused  for  a  moment. 


AT   THE   CORONER'S   INQUEST       103 

"That  is  all  for  the  present,"  he  added,  and  Mar- 
garet moved  back  to  where  she  had  been  first 
sitting. 

"I  am  glad  that  is  over,"  whispered  Raymond. 
"Can  I  do  anything?  Get  you  some  water?" 

"No,  nothing,"  she  answered,  and  dropped  a 
veil  over  her  face. 

The  next  witness  called  was  Mary  Billings, 
the  domestic  employed  at  the  Langmore  man- 
sion, and  who  had  been  about  the  place  at  the 
time  of  the  tragedy.  She  proved  to  be  a  round- 
faced  Irish  girl,  not  particularly  bright,  and  now 
all  but  terror-stricken.  As  soon  as  she  was  sworn 
in  she  burst  into  tears. 

"Sure  as  there  is  a  heavin  above  me,  Oi  didn't 
do  that  murder,  so  Oi  didn't!"  she  moaned. 

"Nobody  said  you  did,"  answered  the  coroner 
dryly,  while  a  general  smile  went  around  the 
courtroom. 

"Then  why  did  yez  bring  me  here,  I  dunno? 
Sure  an'  Mr.  Langmore  was  afther  bein'  me  bist 
frind,  an'  Oi  wouldn't  harm  him  fer  a  million  dol- 
Jars,  so  Oi  wouldn't!"  It  was  with  difficulty  that 
she  was  quieted  and  made  to  tell  what  she  knew. 

"Where  were  you  from  ten  o'clock  to  twelve 
of  the  morning  of  the  tragedy?"  was  the  first 
question  put  to  her. 


104        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"Oi  was  in  the  kitchen,  an'  down  to  the  barn, 
yer  honor." 

"Were  you  in  the  kitchen  first." 

"Sure  an'  Oi  was  that." 

"What  were  you  doing?" 

"Phat  was  Oi  doin'?  Sure  Oi  was  washin'  the 
dishes,  cl'anin'  the  silverware,  peelin'  the  praties, 
shellin'  the  beans,  cleanin'  the  lamps,  fixin' 
the " 

"Ahem !  You  mean  you  were  doing  the  house- 
work, eh?" 

"Yis,  sur." 

"While  you  were  in  the  house,  did  you  leave 
the  kitchen?" 

"Only  to  go  to  the  ciller  fer  a  scuttle  o'  coal." 

"Did  you  see  or  hear  anything  unusual  going 
on  while  you  were  in  the  kitchen?" 

The  Irish  girl  scratched  her  head  and  shrugged 
her  shoulders. 

"Oi  heard  a  lot  av  things,  yer  honor." 

"What  were  they?" 

"Oi  heard  Mrs.  Langmore  walkin'  around  up- 
stairs, an'  Oi  heard  Miss  Margaret  walkin' 
around,  too.  Then  Oi  heard  Mrs.  Langmore 
call  to  Miss  Margaret." 

"Did  Miss  Margaret  answer?" 

"Oi  dunno — if  she  did,  Oi  didn't  hear  her." 

"What  else?" 


AT   THE   CORONER'S   INQUEST       105 

"Thin  Oi  heard  the  front  dure  slam." 

"Did  you  see  anybody  come  in  or  go  out?" 

"Sure,  an'  Oi  did  not." 

"What  time  was  this,  as  near  as  you  can  re- 
member?" 

"Atwixt  tin  an'  eliven  o'clock." 

"Did  you  hear  anything  after  the  slamming  of 
the  front  door?" 

"Oi  did  not,  fer  Oi  wint  down  to  the  barn 
directly  afterwards." 

"How  long  did  you  remain  down  at  the  barn?" 

"Till  Miss  Margaret  came  scr'amin'  from  the 
house.  She  cries,  'Mary,  oh  Mary!  Me  father! 
Me  father!'  an'  staggers  around  loike  she  was 
goin'  to  fall,  an'  Oi  run  up  to  her  an'  hild  her 
up,  poor  dear."  And  the  servant  girl  shot  a  sym- 
pathetic glance  in  Margaret's  direction. 

"Ahem!  Now — er — you  remained  in  the  barn 
until  you  heard  her  cry  out.  Did  you  hear  or 
see  anything  from  the  barn  while  you  were  down 
there?" 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  sur,  Oi  didn't  notice 
anythin'  at  the  toime,  bein'  that  interested  in  me 
pet  chickens,  sur.  Ye  see,  Pat  Callahan  gave  me 
three  foine  Leghorns,  an' ' 

"Never  mind  the  Leghorns.  If  you  saw  or 
heard  anything,  what  was  it?" 


106        THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

'Twas  something  Oi  was  afther  hearin-,  sur. 
Oi  think  somebody  ran  past  the  barn,  aisy  loike." 

"You  didn't  see  anybody?" 

"No,  sur.  As  Oi  said  before,  thim  Leghorns 
that  Pat  Callahan  gave  me " 

"We'll — ahem!  drop  the  Leghorns.  After 
you  heard  the  strange  noise  how  long  was  it  be- 
fore you  heard  Miss  Langmore  scream?" 

"Perhaps  quarter  av  an  hour,  sur.  Oi  didn't 
look  to  the  clock." 

"And  she  fainted  in  your  arms?" 

"Not  exactly  that,  sur.  She  scr'ams,  'Me 
father!  me  father!  Mary,  he  is  murdered!  Go 
to  the  library!'  An'  thin  she  wint  over  in  me 
arms  loike  a^stone,  poor  dear,  poor  dear!"  And 
the  domestic  began  to  weep  afresh. 

"What  did  you  do  then?" 

"Sure,  phat  could  Oi  do?  Oi  scr'amed  fer  hilp 
as  loud  as  OJ  could,  an'  thin  Mrs.  Bardon  an' 
her  son,  Alfred,  the  docthor,  came  over." 

"What  happened  next?" 

"We  all  wint  in  the  house,  an'  there  we  found 
poor  Mr.  Langmore  dead  in  the  library,  in  his 
chair.  The  doctor  thought  he  moight  be  aloive 
yit  an'  had  his  mother  an'  me  run  upstairs  fer 
some  medicine  from  the  medicine  closet.  In  the 
upper  hall  we  kim  on  Mrs.  Langmore's  body, 


AT   THE    CORONER'S   INQUEST       107 

also  dead,  an'  I  got  that  scared  Oi  turned  an' 
flew  down  the  back  stairs  an'  out  av  the  house 
loike  the  divil  was  afther  me!" 

There  was  a  general  laugh  throughout  the 
courtroom,  at  which  the  coroner  rapped  loudly 
on  the  desk. 

"Silence.  Such — ahem !  conduct  at  an  inquest 
is  not  to  be  allowed.  If  this  happens  again  I 
shall  clear  the  courtroom." 

"Thet's  right,  Jack,  make  'em  behave  them- 
selves," came  from  the  old  farmer  in  front.  "This 
is  serious  business,  this  is." 

"What  was  done  with  the  body  of  Mrs.  Lang- 
more?"  continued  the  coroner  to  the  servant  girl. 

"The  docther  said  to  lave  it  till  you  came." 

"Mrs.  Langmore  was  quite  dead?" 

"Yis.     Hivin  rest  her  sowl!" 

"And  Mr.  Langmore?" 

"Sure  an'  the  docther  could  do  nothin'  fer  the 
poor  mon.  It  made  the  docther  sick  to  work 
over  the  corpse  an'  he  soon  had  to  give  it  up." 

"Now,  tell  me,  how  do  you  think  the  two  were 
killed?" 

"Oi  dunno.  The  docther  ought  to  tell  that — 
sure  an'  he  has  the  eddication,  an'  Oi  haven't." 

"There  were  no  marks  of  violence?" 

"Phat?" 


108        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"The  victims  had  not  been  struck  down?" 

"Oi  dunno  as  to  that,  sur — better  axed  the 
docther." 

"Hum  !"  Coroner  Busby  mused  for  a  moment. 
"How  long  have  you  lived  with  the  Langmore 
family?" 

"Iver  since  Mr.  Langmore  married  his  sicond 
woife." 

"How  many  of  the  family  lived  at  home?" 

"The  first  year  there  was  the  mister  and  missus 
an'  Miss  Jennie  an'  Miss  Margaret.  But  Miss 
Jennie  married  an'  moved  away — she's  travelin' 
now,  they  tell  me." 

"Then  Miss  Margaret  was  the  only  child 
home?" 

"Yis,  sur." 

"Didn't  Mrs.  Langmore  have  two  sons?" 

"Yis,  but  they  niver  lived  there.  One  av  thim 
used  to  come  an'  see  her  now  an'  thin,  an' 
that's  all." 

"Was  Miss  Margaret  on  good  terms  with  Mrs. 
Langmore?" 

"She  was  not.  Mrs.  Langmore  was  a — a  vixin, 
always  afther  findin'  fault,  an'  Oi  wasn't  on  good 
terms  wid  her  meself." 

"Ah!     Then  you  quarreled  also?" 

"Oh,  no,  sur,  Oi  knew  me  place,  so  Oi  did,  an' 
did  me  wurruk  an'  said  nothin'.  If  it  hadn't  been 


AT   THE   CORONER'S   INQUEST       109 

fer  Miss  Margaret  Oi'd  a  lift  me  job  long  ago. 
But  she  was  such  a  noice  girrul,  an'  so  lonely 
loike,  in  the  house  wid  that  tongue-lasher " 

"Wait!  wait!  You  say  Miss  Margaret  and 
Mrs.  Langmore  quarreled.  When  did  they 
quarrel  last?" 

At  this  question  the  domestic  pursed  up  her 
lips  and  looked  at  Margaret. 

"Oi  have  nothin'  to  say  about  that,"  she 
answered  coldly. 

This  reply  was  a  surprise  to  all,  including  Ray- 
mond. The  coroner  gazed  at  the  witness  sternly. 

"You  must  answer,"  he  said.  "It  is  my  duty 
to  get  at  the  bottom  of  this  awful  affair." 

"Oi'll  not  answer,"  was  the  stubborn  return. 


CHAPTER  XII 

FOR    AND    AGAINST 

THERE  was  a  moment  of  intense  silence 
throughout  the  courtroom.  Every  eye  was  turned 
on  Mary  Billings,  who  pursed  up  her  lips  more 
closely  than  ever. 

"You'll  not  answer?"  thundered  Coroner 
Busby. 

"Mr.  Coroner,"  began  Raymond,  rising,  "is  it 
legally  necessary  that  she  answer?  Remember, 
she  is  here  without  proper  legal  council." 

"Silence !  I — ahem — yes,  she  must  answer,  or 
I  shall  have  to  commit  her,  as  a  witness  if  for 
nothing  else.  Girl,  are  you  going  to  answer  or 
not?" 

"Sure,  an'  Oi " 

"Chief,  will  you  call  a  policeman?"  went  on 
the  coroner,  turning  to  the  chief  of  police. 

He  was  a  fairly  good  judge  of  human  char- 
acter. At  tne  sight  of  the  bluecoat  the  domestic 
wilted  and  began  to  sob. 

"Ohone!  Ohone !  don't  take  me  to  prison!" 
she  wailed. 

110 


FOR   AND    AGAINST  111 

"You  prefer  to  answer?" 

"Yis,  if  Oi  must.  But  Oi  think  Miss  Margaret 
the  swatest  little  lady " 

"Never  mind  that.  When  did  the  girl  and 
her  stepmother  quarrel  last?  Come  now,  tell 
me  the  plain  truth,"  and  the  coroner  put  as  much 
of  sternness  as  possible  in  his  voice. 

"Well,  thin,  if  yez  has  got  to  know,  it  was 
on  the  marnin'  av  the  murders,  sur,"  sniffled  the 
servant  girl. 

"When  was  this?" 

"Right  afther  breakfast.  They  had  some 
words  at  the  table,  too." 

"What  was  said?  Repeat  the  exact  words  if 
you  can,"  and  the  coroner  leaned  forward  ex- 
pectantly, while  many  in  the  courtroom  held  their 
breath. 

"Mrs.  Langmore  said  she  wished  Miss  Mar- 
garet was  off  the  face  of  the  earth,  an'  that  she'd 
be  afther  seein'  that  the  dear  girrul  wasn't  in 
the  house  much  longer.  'Twas  a  very  bitter  scene, 
an'  me  heart  wint  out  to  the  dear  girrul " 

"And  what  did  Miss  Margaret  reply  to  that?" 

"She  said  it  was  her  father's  house,  an'  she 
would  stay  as  long  as  her  father  wished  her  to. 
An'  it  was  her  father's  house,  too." 

"And  after  that?" 

"A  whole  lot  more  followed,  which  Oi  didn't 


THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

catch,  fer  Oi  am  no  avesdropper.  But  Oi  did 
hear  Mrs.  Langmore,  in  a  perfect  rage,  cry  out 
that  she'd  kill  Miss  Margaret  if  the  girrul  didn't 
moind  her." 

"And  then?" 

"Miss  Margaret  said  she  would  do  as  she 
pl'ased — that  she  was  her  own  mistress — an'  Oi 
was  glad  to  hear  her  say  it.  Mrs.  Langmore 
went  on  wid  her  quarrel — sure,  an'  she  had 
the  divil's  own  tongue,  so  she  had.  Thin  she 
must  have  caught  hould  av  Miss  Margaret,  fer  Oi 
heard  the  girrul  cry  out  to  lit  go  or  she'd  stroike 
her  down.  Thin  there  was  more  wurruds,  hotter 
an'  hotter,  an'  Mrs.  Langmore  said  she  would 
make  the  girrul  mind  as  sure  as  fate,  an'  thin 
Miss  Margaret  got  roused  up  an'  she  said  fer 
Mrs.  Langmore  to  beware,  that  she  had  Southern 
blood  in  her  veins,  an'  she  wouldn't  be  account- 
able fer  what  she  did,  if  her  stepmother  wint 
too  far." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  a  murmur  ran  the 
round  of  the  little  courtroom.  The  testimony 
seemed  to  be  highly  important  and  many  shook 
their  heads.  The  girl  and  her  stepmother  had 
certainly  had  a  bitter  quarrel,  the  girl  had  hot 
Southern  blood  in  her  veins,  and  the  bitterness 
had  ended  in  the  tragedy.  In  the  minds  of  many 


FOR   AND   AGAINST  113 

it  was  only  a  question  of  what  the  extenuating 
circumstances  might  be. 

"Was  Mr.  Langmore  present  at  this  quarrel?" 
asked  the  coroner,  after  another  pause. 

"He  was  at  the  breakfast  table,  but  afther  that 
he  wint  to  the  bank." 

"Did  you  hear  anything  more?" 

"Not  right  away,  sur.  Oi  wint  to  me  work. 
Whin  Mr.  Langmore  came  from  the  bank  Oi 
heard  him  talkin'  to  Miss  Margaret." 

"What  was  said  then?" 

"Oi  dunno  exactly,  exceptin'  that  he  said  he 
was  sorry  she  an'  her  stepmother  had  quarreled, 
an'  he  wanted  her  to  make  it  up  wid  his  woife." 

"And  what  did  Miss  Margaret  say  to  that?" 

"She  said  that  all  she  wanted  was  to  be  left 
alone." 

"What  else?" 

"Oi  didn't  hear  anything  more,  as  Oi  wint  to 
the  ciller  fer  coal.  By  an'  by  Oi  see  Miss  Mar- 
garet in  the  garden  cryin'.  Oi  wanted  to  go  to 
her,  but  Mrs.  Langmore  kim  to  the  kitchen  an' 
Oi  had  to  attind  to  me  wurruk." 

"How  did  Mrs.  Langmore  seem  to  appear 
when  she  came  to  the  kitchen?" 

"Sure  an'  she  was  very  excited  an'  findin'  more 
fault  than  iver.  She  stayed  only  a  few  minutes, 


THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

an'  thin  wint  to  the  library,  an'  that  was  the  very 
last  Oi  saw  av  her.  Oi'm  sorry  she's  dead,  but 
she  had  that  divil's  own  temper!"  And  the  do- 
mestic heaved  a  long  sigh. 

"That  will  do.  You  may  sit  down."  The 
coroner  looked  around  the  courtroom.  "Is  Doc- 
tor Bardon  present?" 

For  reply  the  young  physician  came  forward 
from  one  side  of  the  room.  He  looked  pale  and 
slightly  troubled.  In  a  low  voice  he  corroborated 
the  testimony  already  given  regarding  the  finding 
of  the  two  bodies,  and  told  what  he  had  done 
in  his  effort  to  restore  Mr.  Langmore  to  life. 

"I  thought  there  might  be  a  spark  there  still, 
but  I  was  mistaken,"  he  went  on.  "He  looked 
so  natural — and  Mrs.  Langmore  looked  natural, 
too,  for  the  matter  of  that.  But  both  were  stone 
dead." 

"What  was  the  cause  of  death?" 

"That  is  something  of  a  mystery.  I  have  tried 
my  best  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  it,  but  I  cannot, 
nor  can  my  colleague,  Doctor  Soper." 

"Were  the  pair  strangled,  smothered,  poi- 
soned?" suggested  the  coroner. 

"I  have  a  theory  that  they  were  poisoned,  but 
not  in  an  ordinary  way.  Neither  Doctor  Soper 
nor  myself  could  find  any  traces  of  ordinary 
poison." 


FOR   AND   AGAINST  115 

"What  is  your  theory?" 

"Something  was  used  to  stupefy  them,  and  so 
much  was  used  that  it  killed  them." 

"In  that  case  the  murder  might  have  been  unin- 
tentional?" 

"Yes.  Somebody  might  have  thought  to 
stupefy  Mr.  Langmore  and  then  rob  him.  But 
the  drug,  being  too  powerful,  or  used  too  long, 
might  have  done  its  deadly  work.  Then  the  crime 
may  have  been  discovered  by  Mrs.  Langmore 
and  the  murderer  might  have  turned  on  her  to 
conceal  his  first  wrongdoing." 

"Hum.  Have  you — ahem!  any  idea  of  the 
nature  of  the  poison?" 

"No,  excepting  that  it  had  a  very  powerful 
odor.  When  I  bent  over  Mr.  Langmore  I  got 
several  whiffs  of  it  and  it  made  me  sick  at  the 
stomach.  But  the  odor  was  soon  gone." 

"And  you  have  no  idea  what  the  poison  was?" 

"No,  nor  has  Doctor  Soper.  It  may  be  some- 
thing new,  or  something  little  known.  Chemists 
are  constantly  discovering  new  things,"  went  on 
the  young  physician,  bound  to  clear  himself  of  any 
suspicion  of  ignorance  concerning  medical  matters. 

"You  found  no  marks  of  violence,  as  if  there 
had  been  a  struggle?" 

"The  only  marks  I  found  were  two  scratches 
on  the  right  arm  of  Mrs.  Langmore,  right  above 


116        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

the  wrist,  and  a  scratch  on  Mr.  Langmore's  left 
cheek." 

"Finger  nail  scratches?" 

"Possibly,  or  else  they  may  have  been  made 
by  a  ring  or  bracelet — if  there  was  a  struggle." 

"Hum!  Have  you  anything  else  to  tell, 
doctor?" 

"I  have  not.     I  am  willing  to  tell  all  I  know." 

There  was  another  pause,  as  the  young  physi- 
cian stepped  back.  The  coroner  was  about  to  call 
one  of  the  women  set  to  guard  Margaret  and 
the  Langmore  mansion,  when  he  suddenly  turned. 

"Miss  Langmore,  you  will  please  take  the  stand 
again,"  he  said,  and  the  girl  did  so,  throwing 
aside  her  veil.  "Are  you  in  the  habit  of  wearing 
finger  rings  and  bracelets?" 

It  was  a  leading  question  and  several  gasped 
as  they  heard  it.  Raymond  started  to  rise  up,  but 
then  sank  back  again. 

"I  do  not  wear  bracelets,"  answered  Margaret. 
"I  have  two  rings." 

"What  kind  of  rings  are  they?" 

"One  is  a  plain  gold  band.  It  was  my  mother's 
wedding  ring."  The  girl's  voice  sank  low  sud- 
denly. "The  other  is  a  diamond  ring,  as  you 
can  see,"  and  she  held  up  her  hand. 

"Will  you  let  me  have  the  diamond  ring?" 


FOR   AND   AGAINST  117 

"Yes,  sir."  She  took  it  off.  "But  please  be 
careful  of  it,  for  it — it  is  very  precious  to  me." 

The-coroner  nodded.  "That  is  all  just  now," 
and  as  Margaret  let  fall  the  veil  again,  he  called 
Doctor  Bardon  to  his  side.  A  whispered  con- 
versation ensued,  and  the  young  physician  left 
with  the  precious  circlet — Margaret's  engagement 
ring — in  an  envelope. 

"Margaret,  you  should  not  have  let  him  have 
that  ring,"  whispered  Raymond. 

"How  could  I  help  it?"  was  the  low  answer. 
"Oh,  this  is  terrible !  I  feel  as  if  everybody  was 
trying  to  look  me  through  and  through !" 

"I  can't  understand  why  Mr.  Adams  is  not 
here,"  went  on  the  young  man.  "Perhaps  he  has 
found  some  important  clew  and  is  following  it 
up,"  he  added  hopefully. 

"They  are  bound  to  convict  me,  Raymond! 
Isn't  it  horrible?" 

"They  shall  never  do  it,  never!"  cried  the  young 
man.  And  then  a  sharp  rapping  on  the  desk 
terminated  the  brief  conversation  and  restored 
quietness  to  the  little  courtroom. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    WEIGHT    OF     EVIDENCE 

THE  next  witness  called  was  Mrs.  Morse,  who 
told  briefly  how  she  had  been  placed  in  charge 
of  the  upper  part  of  the  Langmore  mansion 
shortly  after  the  tragedy,  and  how  she  had  been 
watching  Margaret.  She  said  the  girl  had  had 
only  a. few  visitors,  mentioning  Raymond  Case 
and  a  stranger  from  New  York. 

"Who  was  the  stranger?"  asked  Coroner 
Busby. 

"A  Mr.  Adams.  He's  either  a  lawyer  or  a 
detective." 

"Oh  I" 

"I  brought  Mr.  Adams  to  see  Miss  Lang- 
more,"  put  in  Raymond.  "Wasn't  that  all  right?" 

"Certainly — certainly,"  answered  the  coroner 
hastily. 

"I  have  kept  the  best  watch  on  Miss  Lang- 
more  that  I  could,"  went  on  the  woman.  "You 
told  me  to  do  it." 

"Has  Miss  Langmore  had  anything  to  say 
about  her  father?" 

118 


THE   WEIGHT   OF   EVIDENCE        119 

"She  seems  to  be  very  sorry  that  he  is  dead." 

"What  did  she  say  about  Mrs.  Langmore?" 

"She  does  not  seem  to  care  much  about  her 
stepmother." 

"Have  you  discovered  anything  unusual,  Mrs. 
Morse,  that  had  to  do  with  this  tragedy?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  I  have  looked  around 
a  bit,  and  among  other  things  I  found  this.  It 
was  in  Miss  Langmore's  dressing  case." 

As  she  spoke  the  woman  held  up  a  small  bot- 
tle. It  was  marked  chloroform  and  was  empty. 

"Anything  else?" 

"With  the  empty  bottle  I  found  the  half  of  a 
big  silk  handkerchief.  It  was  wrapped  around 
the  bottle  and  had  Miss  Langmore's  monogram 
in  the  corner.  I  went  on  hunting  around  the 
house  and  I  found  the  other  half  of  the  handker- 
chief in  a  dark  corner  of  the  upper  hallway,  not 
far  from  where  Mrs.  Langmore's  body  was 
found." 

At  this  announcement  there  was  a  buzz  of  ex- 
citement. All  present  looked  at  the  witness  and 
then  at  Margaret.  The  girl  had  thrown  aside 
her  veil  once  more,  and  was  standing  up,  with 
a  face  as  pale  as  death  itself. 

"I — I — may  I  speak?"  she  faltered. 

"Yes." 

"I  bought  that  chloroform  a  month  ago  and 


120        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

used  it  to  put  a  sick  canary  and  a  sick  parrot  out 
of  their  misery.  Mary  Billings  saw  me  chloro- 
form the  parrot." 

"When  did  you  do  the  chloroforming?" 

"About  a  week  ago,  on  the  parrot.  The  canary 
I  chloroformed  when  I  obtained  the  drug." 

"Sure,  and  that's  roight,  sur,"  broke  in  the 
servant  girl. 

"Then  you  know  all  about  using  chloroform?" 
remarked  the  coroner  dryly. 

"The  druggist  told  me." 

"Did  it  take  all  you  had  for  the  birds?" 

"No." 

"What  did  you  do  with  what  remained?" 

"I  threw  it  away,  for  I  had  no  further  use 
for  it." 

"Hum."  The  coroner  turned  to  Mary  Bill- 
ings. "Did  you  see  her  throw  the  chloroform 
away?" 

"N — no,"  stammered  the  servant  girl.  "But 
if  she  says  she  did,  she  did,"  she  added  stoutly. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Morse,  did  you  find  anything  else 
of  value?" 

"I  did  not,  but  Mrs.  Gaspard,  who  was  in 
charge  downstairs,  did." 

"Very  well,  you  may  step  down.  Mrs.  Gas- 
pard!" And  the  other  woman  came  forward  to 
face  the  coroner  and  his  jury,  and  was  sworn. 


THE   WEIGHT   OF   EVIDENCE 

"Mrs.  Morse  says  you  found  something  of 
importance.  What  was  it?" 

"It  was  this,  Mr.  Busby,"  and  the  woman  held 
out  a  sheet  of  note  paper.  "I  came  across  it  on 
the  stairs  leading  to  Miss  Langmore's  room. 
Shall  I  read  it?"  And  as  the  coroner  nodded, 
the  woman  read  as  follows: 

"Since  you  refuse  to  open  your  room  door  to 
me,  let  me  give  you  fair  warning.  You  must 
either  obey  your  mother  that  now  is,  and  me, 
or  leave  this  house.  I  have  had  enough  of  your 
willfulness  and  I  shall  not  put  up  with  it  any 
longer." 

As  the  woman  finished  reading  she  handed  the 
paper  to  the  coroner. 

"Ahem!  Mrs.  Gaspard,  do  you  know  who 
wrote  this  note?"  asked  the  latter. 

"The  handwriting  is  exactly  like  Mr.  Lang- 
more's. I  have  compared  the  two,  and  so  have 
Mrs.  Morse  and  Mr.  Pickerell,  the  school- 
master." 

Again  all  eyes  were  bent  upon  Margaret.  She 
had  again  arisen  and  was  swaying  from  side  to 
side. 

"My  father — never — never  sent  me — never 
wrote  such  a  note "  she  gasped,  and  then 


THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

sank  back  and  would  have  fallen  had  not  Ray- 
mond supported  her. 

"A  glass  of  water,  quick !"  cried  the  young  man, 
and  it  was  handed  to  him,  and  also  a  bottle  of 
smelling  salts.  In  a  moment  more  Margaret 
revived. 

"Take  me  away,"  she  moaned. 

"I  am  sorry,  but  that  cannot  be  allowed,"  re- 
plied the  coroner.  "You  will  have  to  remain 
until  this  session  is  over." 

"It's  an  outrage!"  exclaimed  Raymond,  his 
eyes  flashing.  "You  are  all  against  her,  and  you 
are  going  to  prove  her  guilty  if  you  possibly  can. 
The  whole  proceedings  is  a  farce." 

"Silence,  young  man,  or  I'll  have  you  removed 
by  an  officer.  You  have  interrupted  the  proceed- 
ings se.veral  times.  I  do  not  know  what  interest 
you  have " 

"I  am  not  ashamed  to  tell  you  of  my  interest, 
sir.  I  am  engaged  to  this  young  lady.  I  know 
she  is  innocent.  It  is  preposterous  to  imagine 
that  she  would  kill  her  own  father.  They  loved 
each  other  too  much." 

"Yes,  but  this  note "  piped  in  Mrs.  Gas- 

pard.     She  was  a  strong  believer  in  Margaret's 
guilt. 

"I  know  nothing  about  that.  It  may  be  a 
forgery.  I  know  Miss  Langmore  is  innocent." 


THE   WEIGHT   OF   EVIDENCE 

"To  merely  say  a  thing  does  not  prove  it," 
came  from  the  coroner.  "We  want  facts,  nothing 
else — and  we  are  bound  to  have  'em."  He 
began  to  warm  up  also.  "I'm  here  to  do  my  duty, 
regardless  of  you  or  anybody  else.  I  ain't  going 
to  shield  anybody,  rich  or  poor,  high  or  low, 
known  or  unknown !  Now,  you  sit  down,  and  let 
the  inquest  proceed."  And  Raymond  sat  down, 
but  with  a  great  and  growing  bitterness  filling 
his  heart.  He  looked  at  Margaret  and  saw  that 
she  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

There  was  an  awkward  pause. 

"Mrs.  Gaspard,  did  Mr.  Pickerell  say  he 
thought  Mr.  Langmore  had  written  this  note?" 
questioned  the  coroner. 

"He  said  the  two  handwritings  were  exactly 
alike.  Here  is  a  letter  written  and  signed  by 
Mr.  Langmore.  You  can  compare  the  two,  if 
you  wish." 

The  letter  was  passed  over  and  not  only  the 
coroner,  but  also  his  jury,  looked  at  both  docu- 
ments carefully. 

"Pretty  much  the  same  thing,"  whispered  one 
man. 

"Exactly  the  same,"  added  another,  and  the 
rest  nodded. 

The  coroner  looked  around  the  courtroom  and 
then  at  the  jury. 


THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"Have  any  of  you  any  questions  to  ask?"  he 
queried  of  the  men.  "If  not  we'll  take  a  brief 
recess  until  Doctor  Bardon  returns." 

One  after  another  the  jurors  shook  their  heads. 
Whatever  the  coroner  did  was  sufficient  for  them. 
Coroner  Busby  had  picked  men  he  knew  would 
agree  with  him. 

The  recess  had  lasted  but  a  few  minutes,  when 
Doctor  Bardon  reappeared.  His  face  wore  a 
knowing  look  that  was  almost  triumphant. 

"You  will  please  take  the  stand  again,  doctor," 
was  the  request.  "I  wish  to  ask  you  if  a  person 
could  be  smothered  by  chloroform." 

"Certainly,  under  certain  conditions." 

"Do  you  think  it  possible  that  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Langmore  could  have  been  smothered  in  that 
way?" 

"Possibly,  yes,  although  I  did  not  see  any 
traces." 

"Would  there  have  been  traces?" 

"Yes  and  no — it  would  depend  on  circum- 
stances." 

"Hum.  Now  about  the  diamond  ring  belong- 
ing to  Miss  Langmore,  which  I  gave  you  a  short 
while  ago  to  examine?  Have  you — ahem — ex- 
amined it?" 

"I  have,  and  so  has  Doctor  Soper.  We  used 
a  magnifying  glass  and  made  several  tests." 


"Did  you  find  anything  unusual?" 

"We  did.  In  the  first  place  two  of  the  prongs 
which  hold  the  diamond  in  place  are  bent  out 
and  up  in  such  a  fashion  that  each  forms  a  sharp 
point.  We  next  looked  under  the  stone  and  found 
there  a  substance  which  both  of  us  are  convinced 
is  a  bit  of  dried-up  blood." 

"You  are  sure  it  is  blood?" 

"Yes.  I  can  illustrate  it  scientifically,  if  you 
desire." 

"It  will  not  be  necessary  just  now.  When  you 
say  blood  do  you  mean  human  blood?" 

At  this  the  young  physician  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"I  am  not  prepared  to  go  as  far  as  that.  We 
should  have  to  make  another  test.  The  amount 
was  so  very  small." 

"Might  be  blood  from  a  mosquito,"  muttered 
Raymond.  "There  are  enough  around  here." 

"You  may  think  as  you  please,"  said  the  young 
doctor.  "I  am  only  stating  the  facts." 

"Have  you  anything  else  to  say,  doctor?"  came 
from  the  coroner. 

"Nothing  more.  Here  is  the  ring.  We  have 
kept  what  we  found  under  the  stone." 

"Very  well.  Miss  Langmore,  you  may  have 
the  ring  back."  It  was  passed  out  and  Raymond 
took  it  and  slipped  it  back  on  Margaret's  hand, 


126        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

which  was  cold  and  nerveless.  The  girl  was  sit- 
ting as  motionless  as  a  marble  statue. 

There  was  another  pause  and  then,  one  after 
another,  several  minor  witnesses  were  brought 
up  and  examined.  At  four  o'clock  the  coroner 
began  to  sum  up  the  evidence,  to  which  the  jury 
listened  with  close  attention.  Then  the  jurors 
filed  out  into  a  side  room,  the  door  to  which  was 
tightly  closed. 

"Is— is  it  over?"  faltered  Margaret.  "Wha — 
what  will  they  do  next?" 

"We  must  wait  for  the  finding  of  the  jury, 
Margaret." 

"How  long  will  that  take?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Mr.  Adams  did  not  show  himself.  I  thought 
he  would  help  us  in  some  way." 

"He  must  have  a  good  reason  for  staying 
away." 

"What  do  you  think  the  jury  will  do?" 

At  this  direct  question,  the  young  man  gave 
an  inward  groan.  "I  don't  know,"  ne  answered 
in  an  unnatural  voice.  "We  must  hope  for  the 
best." 

In  less  than  an  hour  it  was  announced  that  the 
>ury  had  arrived  at  a  verdict.  Those  who  had 
left  the  courtroom  returned  and  the  jurymen 
filed  in.  The  excitement  was  subdued,  but  plainly 


THE   WEIGHT   OF   EVIDENCE        127 

at  a  white  heat.  The  coroner  took  his  place  at 
the  desk. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  have  you  agreed  upon 
a  verdict?"  was  the  question  put. 

"We  have,"  was  the  unanimous  answer. 

"Who  will  speak  for  you?" 

"Mr.   Blackwell,   our  foreman." 

"Very  well.  Ahem!  Mr.  Blackwell,  what  is 
the  verdict?" 

Mr.  Blackwell,  a  well-known  citizen  of  the 
town,  stood  up.  The  courtroom  became  intensely 
silent. 

"We  find  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barry  Langmore 
came  to  their  deaths  either  by  being  smothered, 
chloroformed,  poisoned,  or  in  some  similar  fash- 
ion, the  direct  means  not  yet  being  brought  to 
light,  and  we  find  that  the  evidence  points  to 
Margaret  Langmore  as  the  one  who  committed 
the  murders." 

Hardly  was  the  verdict  rendered  than  a  wild 
cry  rang  out  through  the  courtroom.  Margaret 
staggered  to  her  feet,  put  out  her  hands  in  an 
uncertain  fashion,  and  then  dropped  senseless  into 
Raymond's  arms. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IS    THIS    MADNESS? 

INSTANTLY  there  was  wild  confusion,  and  half 
a  dozen  persons  sprang  forward  to  assist  Ray- 
mond with  his  burden.  But  he  waved  them  back. 

"Let  her  have  air,"  he  said.  "Don't  crowd 
so  close.  She  must  have  air,"  and  he  moved  to- 
wards a  window.  The  crowd  separated  to  let 
him  pass  and  allowed  him  the  use  of  an  entire 
bench,  while  more  water  was  brought  and  the 
bottle  of  smelling  salts  was  again  produced.  In 
the  meantime  the  coroner  whispered  to  the  chief 
of  police,  who  in  turn  whispered  to  a  policeman, 
and  the  two  minions  of  the  law  followed 
Raymond. 

Margaret  lay  like  one  dead,  every  particle  of 
color  having  forsaken  her  cheeks.  Raymond 
waited  anxiously,  and  then  applied  his  ear  to 
her  heart. 

"A  doctor!"  he  cried  hoarsely.  "A  doctor, 
for  Heaven's  sake!  She  is  dying!" 

Doctor  Bardon  came  forward,  followed  by 
128 


IS   THIS   MADNESS?  129 

Doctor  Bird,  and  both  looked  at  the  unconscious 
one  closely  and  critically.  There  was  no  sham- 
ming here — the  shock  had  been  heavy — the  bolt 
had  struck  home. 

"This  is  serious,  truly,"  murmured  the  older 
physician.  "We  had  better  remove  her  to  a  side 
room  and  loosen  up  her  garments." 

Many  were  willing  to  assist,  but  Raymond 
shook  them  off  and  he  and  Doctor  Bird  carried 
Margaret  into  the  room  where  the  jury  had 
arrived  at  the  verdict  which  had  so  stunned  her. 
Then  a  nurse  who  happened  to  be  in  the  court- 
room was  called  in,  and  she  and  the  physician 
began  to  work  over  the  suffering  girl. 

"Doctor "  Raymond  could  scarcely  speak. 

"She  will — will  come  around  all  right?" 

"Why,  I  guess  so.  She  has  swooned,  that  is 
all.  The  trial  was  too  much  for  her.  And  then 
there  was  such  a  crowd,  and  the  ventilation  being 
poor " 

The  young  man  waited,  five,  ten,  fifteen  min- 
utes— it  was  as  an  eternity.  The  doctor  still  con- 
tinued to  work,  and  so  did  the  nurse.  Then  the 
latter  whispered  something  and  Raymond  caught 
the  words,  "a  mental  shock,  by  her  eyes." 

"What's  that?"  he  questioned.  He  looked  a' 
Margaret  and  saw  that  her  eyes  were  wide  open 
and  she  was  staring  hard  at  him.  "Margaret!" 


130        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

She  did  not  answer,  but  continued  to  stare, 
turning  from  him  to  the  nurse  and  then  to  the 
old  doctor.  The  chief  of  police  was  at  the  door- 
way and  she  gave  him  a  look  that  fairly  froze 
his  blood. 

"Who "  she  began  and  stopped  short. 

"How  light  it  is!  What  struck  me?  Why  are  you 
all  staring  at  me  in  this  manner?  What  have  I 
done?  Where  am  I?  Have  I  been  sick?" 

"Margaret!"  Raymond  came  closer  and  took 
her  hand.  "Margaret!" 

She  stared  at  him  and  flung  his  hand  away. 
"I've  had  a  horrible  dream — I  dreamed  papa 
was  murdered — that  somebody  had  strangled 
him !  Strangled  him  to  get  my  engagement  ring 
from  me !  And  there  was  blood  there,  blood, 
and  nobody  could  come  to  the  lawn  party.  Oh,  if 
they  knew — and  my  poor  head — it  swims  so  !  And 
the  bottle — the  handkerchief " 

"Margaret,  Margaret!  Don't  go  on  so!"  He 
caught  her  hand  again  and  sank  down  on  his  knees 
beside  her.  "Be  calm.  It  will  all  come  out  right. 
You  fainted,  that's  all.  Don't  you  remember, 
Margaret?" 

"Yes,  yes,  I  remember.  You  said  you  would 
marry  me,  and  then  you  said,  you"  she  tore  her 
hand  away  and  pointed  her  finger  at  him,  "you 
said  I  had  murdered  papa  and  murdered  her! 


IS   THIS   MADNESS?  131 

Oh,  the  shame  of  it,  the  shame!"  And  then  she 
gave  a  'shriek  and  began  to  rave,  tearing  at  her 
clothes  and  her  hair,  until  the  latter  fell  all  over 
her  face.  The  paroxysm  lasted  for  several  min- 
utes and  then  she  fainted  once  more. 

"I  shall  have  to  give  her  something  to  quiet 
her,"  said  the  doctor.  "She  is  in  a  worse  state 
than  I*  at  first  imagined.  The  strain  has  been 
entirely  too  much  for  her  nervous  system.  We 
must  get  her  to  some  quiet  spot." 

"Shall  we  take  her  home?"  asked  Raymond. 

"No,  I  would  not  advise  that,  Mr.  - 

"My  name  is  Raymond  Case." 

"My  home  is  a  quiet  one,"  spoke  up  the  nurse. 
"If  you  wish  you  can  take  her  there.  It  is  not 
very  far  from  here." 

"Besides,"  the  old  doctor  paused.  "The 
coroner  has  something  to  say  about  it." 

"Coroner  Busby  has  turned  the  prisoner  over 
to  me,"  came  from  the  chief  of  police,  and  he 
advanced  a  few  feet  into  the  room. 

"The  prisoner!"  faltered  Raymond.  "Oh,  yes, 
I  suppose  that  is  right.  But  you  can't  take  her 
to  jail.  I'll  go  her  bail  for  any  amount  he 
may  fix." 

•  "Sorry,  Mr.  Case,  but  they  don't  take  bail  on 
such  a  charge  as  murder." 

"But  you  can't  lock  her  up  in  this  condition — it 


THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

would  be  inhuman.  I'll  have  her  taken  to  some 
quiet  place  and  you  can  have  a  guard  set — I'll 
pay  all  the  bills.  Ask  the  coroner  if  that  won't 
do.  She  isn't  going  to  run  away.  She  looks  now 
more  as  if  she  might  die !"  and  he  gave  a  groan 
that  came  straight  from  his  heart. 

The  chief  of  police  had  once  been  young  and 
in  love  with  a  pretty  girl  and  his  face  softened. 
Then  he  remembered  what  Raymond  had  said 
about  paying  the  bills. 

"I'll  fix  it  up  with  Busby,"  he  said.  "Go  ahead 
and  do  what  you  wish,  only  don't  take  her  out 
of  town." 

A  little  later  a  carriage  was  brought  around 
and  Margaret  was  placed  inside  and  driven 
rapidly  to  the  home  of  Martha  Sampson,  the 
nurse.  She  began  to  rave  again,  but  the  physician 
gave  her  a  quieting  potion,  which  put  her  in  a 
sound  but  unnatural  sleep.  She  was  placed  in  a 
pretty  and  comfortable  bedroom  on  the  second 
floor  in  the  rear,  so  that  she  might  not  be  annoyed 
by  those  passing  the  house  in  front.  Two  police- 
men, in  plain  clothes,  were  put  on  guard,  one 
relieving  the  other. 

In  the  meantime  the  news  that  Margaret  had 
been  adjudged  guilty  by  the  coroner's  jury  spread 
like  wild-fire,  and  the  curiosity  seekers  could 


IS    THIS   MADNESS?  133 

scarcely  be  kept  away  from  the  place  to  which 
the  poor  girl  had  been  taken. 

"The  grand  jury  can't  do  anything  but  indict 
her,"  said  more  than  one.  "And,  if  there  is  any 
justice  left,  she'll  surely  be  electrocuted." 

It  was  a  bitter  blow  to  Raymond,  to  have  Mar- 
garet thought  guilty,  but  he  did  not  think  of  that 
as  he  sat  by  her  side,  or  walked  up  and  down 
in  the  little  hallway  just  outside  of  her  door. 
Her  staring  eyes  haunted  him  and  he  longed  for 
a  look  that  should  tell  him  her  reason  had  once 
more  asserted  itself. 

The  doctor  had  come  and  gone  twice  and  had 
promised  to  come  again  that  evening.  Slowly 
the  hours  wore  away.  The  nurse  had  gone  below 
to  prepare  herself  something  to .  eat,  and  Ray- 
mond stood  by  the  suffering  one's  bedside.  He 
saw  the  eyelids  of  the  one  he  loved  quiver 
slightly. 

"Margaret!"  he  said  softly,  bending  over  her. 

There  was  no  response  and  he  repeated  the 
name  several  times.  Then  her  eyes  opened  full. 

"Where  am  I?"   she  asked  vacantly. 

"You  are  safe,  with  me,"  he  answered  and 
took  her  hand. 

"With  you,  Raymond?     Where?" 

"At  the  home  of  a  lady  who  is  going  to  take 
care  of  you  for  the  present." 


134        THE   MANSION   OF   MASTERY 

"How  queer!  I  thought  I  was  at  my  own 
home." 

"We  thought  it  best  to  bring  you  here.  Miss 
Sampson  will  do  all  she  can  for  you.  The  doctor 
said  you  must  be  kept  very  quiet."  He  smoothed 
down  her  hair.  "You  have  had  a  terrible  trial, 
my  dear." 

"A  trial?  I  don't  remember  it.  What  was 
it?"  She  stared  vacantly  at  him.  "Oh,  how  queer 
my  head  feels!"  And  she  put  one  cold  hand  to 
her  temple. 

"Never  mind  trying  to  think  now,  Margaret. 
Just  take  it  easy.  The  doctor  will  come  back 
in  a  little  while  and  he  will  give  you  something 
that  will  make  you  all  right  again." 

"How  long  have  I  been  here?" 

"Only  four  hours.     Now  please,  don't  worry." 

"I  can't — I  can't  think — it's  all  like  a  terribly 
dark  cloud,  Raymond."  She  stared  in  a  wild 
fashion  and  then  a  look  of  untold  horror  crossed 
her  drawn  features.  "Ah!  Yes,  yes,  I  remember 
now!  I  remember!"  She  shook  from  head  to 
foot.  "I  remember!  The  courtroom!  And 
those  many  men  and  women!  And  the  ring — our 
engagement  ring — think  of  that,  Raymond!  They 
found  blood  on  it,  blood!"  And  she  shivered 
again. 

"Margaret,    dearest,    you    must    try    to    keep 


IS   THIS   MADNESS?  135 

quiet,"  he  interrupted  soothingly.  "It  will  all 
come  out  right,  I  feel  certain  of  it." 

"Right?  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  that 
word.  Was  I  on  trial,  or  what?" 

"No,  not  on  trial.  It  was  simply  the  coroner's 
inquest.  But  don't  think  of  it,  dear."  He  tried 
to  brush  back  her  hair,  but  she  stopped  him.  The 
wild  look  in  her  eyes  was  increasing. 

"The  inquest?  Oh,  yes,  I  know  now,  and  they 

said — they  said "  She  gave  a  piercing 

scream.  "They  said  I  had  killed  her  and  killed 
my  own  father !  Yes,  that  I  had  killed  them ! 
Do  you  hear,  Raymond,  I  had  killed  them!"  She 
sat  up  and  motioned  him  away.  "Do  not  touch 
me!  Do  not  come  near  me!" 

"Margaret!"  he  interrupted  appealingly. 

"No!  no!  It  is  too  late,  too  late!"  Her  voice 
sank  to  a  hoarse  whisper.  "I  see  it  all — the  blood 
on  the  ring,  the  chloroform,  our  quarrels,  and 

what  she  said  to  me,  and  then,  and  then " 

She  gave  another  scream.  "Go  away!  go  away! 
You  must  not  come  near  me  again!" 

"But  Margaret,  dear " 

"No,  I  cannot  listen !  You  must  go  away,  and 
let  them  take  me  to  prison,  let  them  hang  me 
if  they  will !"  Her  voice  sank  still  lower.  "There 
is  nothing  else  to  do — I  see  the  end.  They  have 
cornered  me,  have  found  me  out!  Yes,  they 


136        THE  MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

have  found  me  out  I"  She  gave  a  wild,  uncanny 
laugh  that  made  his  flesh  creep.  "Ha !  ha !  I 
thought  they  could  not  do  it,  but  they  did.  They 
have  found  me  out!  They  have  found  me  out!" 
And  then,  with  another  scream,  she  pitched  back 
and  lay  again  like  one  dead. 


CHAPTER  XV 

LOVE    VERSUS    BUSINESS 

"UNCLE  ADAM,  you  must  tell  me  everything. 
Do  you  hear? — everything!" 

"But  my  dear  Letty,  I  am  not  sure  of  these 
things.  I  only  want  you  to  wait.  That's  easy 
enough,  isn't  it?" 

"It  will  be,  if  you  tell  me  everything.  But  I 
can't  wait  if  I  am  kept  in  the  dark."  The  girl 
raised  her  tear-stained  face  to  that  of  the  de- 
tective. "Oh,  I  am  sure  you  will  do  the  best 
you  can  and  all  that — you  have  always  been  so 
kind  to  me.  But — but  I  must  know  the  details." 

A  half  hour  had  passed  since  he  had  discovered 
that  Letty  Bernard  was  in  love  with  Tom 
Ostrello,  that  she  had  been  in  love  with  the  trav- 
eling man  ever  since  they  had  first  met.  He  had 
heard  her  whole  tale,  how  the  young  man  had 
taken  her  out  and  how  they  had  planned  for  the 
future — a  tale  not  uncommon  even  in  these  plain, 
common-sense  days,  when  Romance  lingers  only 
on  the  outskirts  of  society.  He  had  been  tremen- 

137 


138        THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

dously  interested,  as  much  so  as  if  the  girl  was 
his  own  flesh  and  blood. 

"Of  course,  he  invited  me  to  the  theatre  be- 
fore he  knew  of  the  death  of  his  mother,"  Letty 
went  on.  "And  I  suppose  he  has  been  so  upset 
he  hasn't  thought  to  notify  me.  But  he  might 
have  sent  me  word,"  she  added  wistfully.  "I 
should  have  done  so  if  it  was  my  mother." 

"He  is  not  like  you,  Letty." 

"Well,  he  is  just  as  good." 

"That  remains  to  be  seen." 

"Are  you  going  to  tell  me  what  you  have  in 
your  mind  or  not,  Uncle  Adam?" 

He  gazed  at  her  fondly.  How  could  he  tell 
her?  And  yet,  if  his  suspicions  were  correct,  it 
would  be  better  for  her  to  know  the  truth  now 
than  to  be  struck  down  by  it  later  on. 

"There  is  nothing  very  definite,  Letty,"  he  said 
slowly.  "You  know  that  all  detectives  get  on 
the  wrong  trail  at  times — I  have  made  a  mess  of 
more  than  one  case — you  know  that,  even  if  the 
general  public  doesn't." 

"Then  he  is  suspected  of  these  murders?"  she 
said  boldly. 

"If  you  must  have  the  whole  story,  I'll  tell  it 
to  you.  It  is  certainly  a  curious  situation.  At 
first  suspicions  pointed  to  Mr.  Langmore's  daugh- 
ter; now  they  appear  to  point  to  Mrs.  Langmore's 


LOVE   VERSUS    BUSINESS  189 

son.  For  your  sake  and  for  the  sake  of  Miss 
Langmore,  who  appears  to  be  a  very  nice  young 
lady,  J  trust  we  shall  be  able  to  prove  some  out- 
side party  guilty." 

"Tom  isn't  guilty,  I  am  sure  of  that." 

"And  Raymond  Case  is  equally  certain  that 
Miss  Langmore  isn't  guilty." 

"He  is  the  young  man  who  came  here  and 
engaged  you?" 

"Yes." 

"Is  he  engaged  to  her?" 

"Yes." 

"Then,  of  course,  he  thinks  her  innocent." 

"I  think  her  innocent  myself." 

"Do  you  think  Tom  is  guilty?" 

At  this  direct  question  Adam  Adams  winced. 
He  saw  before  him  a  disagreeable  duty  which 
must  be  performed. 

"I  see  I  must  give  you  the  facts,  Letty.  But 
I  will  do  so  on  one  condition  only,  and  that  is, 
that  you  keep  what  I  have  to  say  to  yourself — 
considering  them  as  office  secrets." 

"Very  well,  Uncle  Adam,  I'll  promise,"  she 
answered,  with  a  pale  face  upturned  to 'him.  He 
bent  down  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead.  Then 
he  locked  the  office  door,  sat  down  in  an  arm- 
chair and  let  her  sit  on  his  lap,  just  as  she  had 
done  since  childhood. 


140        THE  MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

His  recital  took  the  best  part  of  an  hour,  and 
he  gave  all  the  particulars  of  his  interview  with 
Cephas  Carboy  and  with  Doctor  Calkey,  and 
told  of  the  finding  of  the  bit  of  paper  with  the 
address  of  the  drug  firm  on  it,  and  of  the  strange 
Chinese  poison.  At  the  mention  of  the  fatal  drug 
she  drew  a  sharp  breath. 

"I — I "  she  began,  and  stopped  short. 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  that  drug,  Letty? 
Perhaps  he  spoke  to  you  about  it?" 

"He  did,  once,  when  we  were  speaking  of 
poisons.  He  said  he  was  glad  his  firm  had  de- 
cided not  to  handle  it,  for  it  was  too  dangerous, 
It  has  a  power  that  most  folks  do  not  know 
about." 

"The  power  to  kill  people,  I  suppose." 

"No,  not  that.  He  said  it  was  a  fatal  drug, 
but  more  than  that,  he  said  it  had  a  strange 
power,  according  to  the  Chinese  chemists  who 
manufactured  it.  That  power  was,  if  it  was 
used  on  a  person  and  did  not  kill  it  would,  in  a 
few  days  or  a  week,  make  that  person  mad." 

"Humph!  Worse  and  worse!  Such  a  drug 
should  be  banished  by  law.  But  to  go  on  with 
my  story,  if  you  must  hear  the  whole  of  it.  I  am 
fairly  certain  it  was  that  drug  which  was  used  to 
kill  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Langmore." 

"But  Tom  did  not  use  it,"  she  insisted.     "Some- 


LOVE   VERSUS    BUSINESS  141 

body  else  must  have  gotten  the  drug  from  him 
or  from  his  traveling  sample  case." 

"That  is  possible.  Now  there  is  another  side 
to  this  case,  which  I  cannot  understand  at  all." 
And  then  he  told  of  the  counterfeit  bank  bills. 

"Counterfeits!"  she  exclaimed,  and  the  color 
began  to  leave  her  face  once  more.  "What  kind 
of  bills  were  they,  Uncle  Adam?" 

"They  were  one  hundred  dollar  bills,  on  the 
Excelsior  National  Bank  of  New  York  City." 

She  gave  a  gasp  and  clenched  her  little  hands 
to  control  herself.  He  could  not  help  but  notice 
her  increased  agitation. 

"What  is  it,  Letty?     Do  you  know— 

"Oh,  Uncle  Adam,  do  not  ask  me,"  she  gasped. 
"I — I — there  is  some  mistake — Tom  did 

not "  she  failed  to  go  on  and  looked  at  the 

detective  hopelessly. 

"What  do  you  know  about  these  counterfeits? 
Come,  it  is  best  that  you  tell  me  everything,"  he 
continued  kindly,  but  firmly. 

"To — Tom  had  a  counterfeit  one  hundred  dol- 
lar bill.  He — we  went  to  the  theatre  and  he  got 
into  some  trouble  over  it,  until  he  convinced  the 
ticket  seller  that  he  did  not  know  it  was  bad." 

"Did  he  tell  you  where  he  got  the  bill?" 

"No,  he  said  he  got  stuck,  that's  all." 

"Do  you  know  what  he  did  with  it?" 


142        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"He  said  he  was  going  to  give  it  back  and  get 
a  good  one  for  it,  if  he  could." 

At  that  moment  a  postman's  whistle  sounded 
in  the  hallway  and  several  letters  dropped 
through  the  slit  in  the  door.  The  girl  glanced 
at  them,  and  uttering  a  faint  cry,  arose  and  picked 
them  up. 

"Here  is  one  from  Tom  now."  She  tore  it 
open  and  glanced  at  it  hastily.  "I  knew  it,"  she 
went  on.  "He  is  all  upset  because  of  the  murder 
and  scarcely  knows  what  to  do.  He  had  an  im- 
portant engagement  in  Albany  for  yesterday  and 
one  in  New  York  for  to-day,  but  has  broken  both. 
He  says  he  will  come  to  me  as  soon  as  he  can, 
and  adds  a  postscript  asking  me  to  look  in  the 
papers  for  the  particulars  of  the  awful  affair. 
You  read  it,  Uncle  Adam.  That  doesn't  look 
much  as  if  he  were  guilty,  does  it?" 

The  detective  took  the  communication  and 
scanned  it  with  care.  It  had  evidently  been 
penned  in  a  hurry  and  was  signed,  "Your  own 
Tom."  One  line  read:  "I  hope  with  all  my  heart 
that  the  authorities  bring  the  guilty  party  to 
justice." 

"How  could  he  pen  that  if  he  was  guilty  him- 
self?" said  Letty,  pointing  to  the  line.  "Oh, 
Uncle  Adam,  you  must  look  elsewhere  for  the 
one  who  did  this  foul  deed." 


LOVE   VERSUS    BUSINESS  143 

"I  wish  I  knew  where  he  got  that  counterfeit?" 
"Perhaps  I  can  find  out  for  you." 
"Can  you  tell  me  where  he  stays  when  in  New 
York?" 

"At  the  Kingdon  House,  on  Broadway." 
"Then  I  may  look  him  up." 
"Cannot  I  do  something?" 
"Yes — wait  and  keep  quiet,  Letty." 
"But  you   will  try  to   clear  him,    if  you  can, 
won't  you?" 

"I  am  going  to  try  to  find  the  guilty  party." 
"It  is  dreadful  to  remain  here  and  do  nothing, 
with  such  a  cloud  hanging  over  one." 

"Then  take  a  vacation.  It  will  do  you  good. 
Get  Miss  Harringford  to  come  in  here — she 
knows  the  ropes — and  you  go  off  in  the  country 
or  to  the  seashore.  I'll  make  you  an  allowance 
of  fifty  dollars  for  the  trip.  Take  it  out  of  the 
cash  on  hand.  And,  Letty,  don't  worry  too 
much." 

The  girl  smiled,  but  it  was  not  a  smile  to  please 
one.  "Very  well,  I'll  go  off,"  she  said,  and 
turned  back  to  her  desk.  "I'll  take  the  time  off  to 
help  clear  poor  Tom,"  she  murmured  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SOMETHING  ABOUT  A  SECRET  SERVICE  MAN 

ON  THE  following  morning  the  newspapers 
brought  to  Adam  Adams  the  full  particulars  of 
the  Langmore  inquest,  with  the  finding  of  the 
coroner's  jury.  The  papers  also  described  how 
Margaret  Langmore  had  fainted  and  been  placed 
at  a  nurse's  residence,  under  the  care  of  a  phy- 
sician and  guarded  by  the  police.  By  a  few  it 
was  supposed  that  the  girl's  illness  was  genuine, 
but  the  general  opinion  was  that  it  was  assumed, 
in  order  to  draw  public  sympathy.  Raymond 
Case  was  pictured  as  a  loyal,  but  misguided  young 
man,  and  it  was  hinted  that  his  relatives  were 
much  chagrined  to  see  him  remaining  at  the  ac- 
cused girl's  side,  in  view  of  the  evidence  which 
had  been  brought  to  light. 

The  detective  read  the  accounts  with  interest 
and  then  leaned  back  in  his  office  chair  in  a 
thoughtful  mood.  Letty  had  absented  herself 
and  in  the  outer  office  was  another  girl,  who  had 

144 


A   SECRET    SERVICE    MAN  145 

done  substitute  work  before.  Suddenly  the  de- 
tective arose  with  decision,  went  to  the  telephone, 
and  ra«g  up  Central. 

"Hullo!" 

"Give  me  45678  Park." 

There  was  a  buzz  and  then  a  heavy  voice  came 
over  the  'phone. 

"Hullo!" 

"Is  that  you,  Vapp?" 

"Yes.     Is  this  Mr.  Adams?" 

"Yes.     Are  you  particularly  busy?" 

"Not  if  there  is  any  money  afloat,"  and  a 
chuckle  came  over  the  wire. 

"I  want  you  to  do  some  shadowing  for  me. 
I  don't  know  how  long  it  will  take.  It's  a  man — 
a  commercial  traveler.  You  can  pick  out  your 
own  make-up." 

"When  am  I  on?" 

"Right  away."  • 

"Want  me  up  there  first?" 

"I  think  it  will  be  best.  I  want  to  give  you 
some  details." 

"I'll  be  there  in  half  an  hour  and  all  ready 
for  the  job." 

Adam  Adams  busied  himself  in  various  ways, 
and  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  a  well-dressed, 
middle-aged  man  came  in,  carrying  a  small  sample 
case  in  one  hand. 


146        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"Hullo,  going  to  be  a  commercial  traveler 
yourself,  eh?"  commented  the  detective. 

"It  will  give  me  an  easy  way  to  get  around," 
answered  Charles  Vapp.  "I'm  Andy  Weber,  rep- 
resenting the  Boxton  Seed  Company.  A  seed  man 
can  go  anywhere,  in  the  city  and  the  country. 
I  got  the  outfit  from  old  Boxton  himself.  He 
thinks  it  a  good  joke  and  he  will  keep  mum. 
Now,  what's  the  game?" 

"I  want  you  to  do  some  shadowing  for  me." 

"All  right — that's  my  line." 

"This  is  a  bit  out  of  the  ordinary,  Vapp." 

"Well,  that  makes  it  more  interesting.  Who 
is  the  party?" 

"The  fellow's  name  is  Tom  Ostrello." 

"Foreigner,  eh?" 

"No,  he  is  American-born — the  son  of  Mrs. 
Langmore." 

"You  don't  mean  the  woman  who  was  mur- 
dered with  her  husband?" 

"Yes.  He  is  a  commercial  traveler  for  a  drug 
concern." 

"Good!  I'm  glad  I  elected  to  be  a  traveler 
myself." 

"As  I  said,  Vapp,  this  is  no  ordinary  case.  I 
want  you  to  keep  track  of  this  man  day  and  night." 

"I'll  do  it— if  it  can  be  done." 


A    SECRET    SERVICE    MAN  147 

"I  want  you  to  note  every  person  he  communi- 
cates with." 

"I'll  do  that,  too." 

"And  here  is  another  thing  of  great  impor- 
tance. If  he  spends  money,  try  to  find  out  if  it  is 
good  money." 

"Eh?"  The  shadower  looked  surprised  for  an 
instant.  "You  want  me  to  look  out  for  counter- 
feits?" 

"Exactly." 

"That  is  not  so  easy,  but  I'll  do  my  best,"  went 
on  Charley  Vapp,  and  then  he  asked  a  number  of 
questions  regarding  Tom  Ostrello,  all  of  which 
Adam  Adams  answered  as  well  as  he  was  able. 

"You  are  to  stay  on  this  case  until  I  tell  you  to 
drop  it,"  said  the  detective.  "And  remember,  if 
anything  unusual  occurs,  let  me  know  as  soon  as 
you  can  reach  me." 

"I  understand.     Anything  more?" 

Adam  Adams  mused  for  a  moment. 

"Yes.  You  know  Miss  Bernard,  who  works 
for  me  here?" 

"Sure." 

"Well,  take  care  that  she  doesn't  see  you  shad- 
owing Ostrello." 

"I'm  wise,"  answered  the  shadower,  smiling, 
and  the  next  moment  he  was  gone.  He  was  not 


148        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

flustered  by  what  was  before  him,  for  he  had  been 
shadowing  people  for  eleven  years,  and  as  long 
as  there  was  five  dollars  per  day  and  his  expenses 
in  the  work,  he  was  willing  to  continue  indefinitely. 

With  the  shadower  gone,  Adam  Adams  medi- 
tated for  a  moment  and  then  donned  his  walking 
coat  and  his  hat.  In  his  pockets  he  placed  several 
large  but  rather  flat  packages. 

"I  am  going  out,  Miss  Harringford,"  he  said 
to  the  clerk.  "If  I  am  not  back  by  five  o'clock, 
you  may  lock  up  and  go  home.  Be  on  hand  as 
usual  in  the  morning." 

Down  in  the  street  he  hopped  aboard  a 
passing  car  and  rode  eight  blocks.  He  entered 
an  office  building,  went  up  in  an  elevator  to  the 
third  floor,  and  took  himself  to  a  suite  of  offices 
occupied  by  certain  United  States  secret  service 
officers. 

"I  want  to  see  Mr.  Breslow,"  he  said,  and  was 
shown  to  a  private  apartment,  where  an  elderly 
man  sat,  studying  several  reports. 

"How  are  you,  Adams!"  was  the  greeting. 
"Rather  busy  to-day,  but  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"I  want  to  sell  you  some  bank  bills,"  was  the 
reply,  and  Adam  Adams  dumped  the  package 
on  the  desk.  Mr.  Breslow  opened  it  and  ex- 
amined the  contents. 


A   SECRET    SERVICE    MAN  149 

"By  the  jumping  Judas!  Where  did  you  get 
those?  Say,  this  is  worth  while." 

"I  guess  you  haven't  rounded  up  quite  as  many 
as  I  have,  have  you?"  said  the  detective,  with 
a  grim  smile. 

"As  many?  Why,  man,  we've  only  run  across 
sixteen  so  far,  and  you've  got  thirty.  They  are 
such  a  clever  counterfeit  that  even  the  banks  get 
nipped.  This  is  wonderful!  I  didn't  know  you 
were  following  this  trail.  Why  didn't  you  say 
something  before?  Or  maybe  you  wanted  to 
spring  a  surprise,  and  make  some  of  the  boys 
down  here  feel  cheap." 

"No,  it  was  nothing  but  blind  luck.  I  wasn't 
on  the  trail  at  all.  I  simply  stumbled  over  the 
bills." 

"Did  you  get  your  man?" 

"There  was  no  man  to  get." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  found  the  bills?" 

"I  did  and  I  didn't.  They  were  in  the  safe  of  a 
man  who  was  murdered.  I  guess  I'll  have  to 
tell  you  the  best  part  of  the  story,"  and  Adam 
Adams  did  so.  "This  is,  of  course,  confidential," 
he  went  on. 

"Trust  me  for  that,  Adams.  Strange  compli- 
cation, as  you  just  remarked.  I  suppose  you  are 
going  to  follow  up  the  murder  mystery.  Will 
you  follow  this  up,  too?" 


150        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"I  think  so.  I  can't  get  it  out  of  my  head 
that  the  two  are  related  to  each  other." 

"More  than  likely.  Now,  you  just  said  you 
wanted  to  know  something." 

"I  want  to  know  about  this  John  S.  Watkins, 
of  Bryport." 

"Um!  If  I  give  you  his  record,  you'll  of 
course  keep  it  to  yourself.  You  know  how  the 
department  is  about  such  things?" 

"You  are  safe  with  me." 

"I'll  have  the  record  brought  in." 

There  was  a  wait  of  several  minutes,  and  then 
a  big  book  was  produced  from  one  of  the  safes. 

"Here  you  are,  Adams:  John  S.  Watkins, 
Bryport.  Born  at  New  Haven,  October  4,  1862. 
Former  occupation,  model  maker  and  cabinet 
maker.  Private  detective  for  four  years,  and 
one  year  with  the  Cassell  agency.  Entered  the 
United  States  service  three  years  ago.  Never 
been  advanced.  Cases  45,254;  47,732;  46,829. 
Wait  till  I  see  what  those  cases  are." 

Then  three  other  records  were  brought  forth 
and  examined. 

"Humph!  all  small  affairs.  No  wonder  he 
hasn't  been  promoted.  The  first  is  that  of  a 
young  woman  who  used  washed  postage  stamps. 
They  found  four  dollars  worth  of  washed  stamps 
in  her  possession.  The  next  is  the  arrest  of  a 


A    SECRET    SERVICE    MAN  151 

cigar  dealer,  who  used  stamped  boxes  more  than 
once.  He  was  a  fellow  sixty-eight  years  old  and 
got  two  years.  The  last  case  is  a  mail-order 
swindle,  a  ten-cent  puzzle,  a  small  affair,  run 
by  a  nineteen-year-old  boy,  and  sentence  was 
suspended." 

"Not  a  very  brilliant  record,"  was  Adams's 
comment.  "It's  a  wonder  he  can  hold  his  job." 

"It  is  a  wonder.  But  he  may  have  political 
influence,  or  something  else,  or,  it  is  barely  pos- 
sible that  he  may  be  doing  some  work  that  is  not 
on  record  here.  That  is  all  I  can  tell  you." 

"What  is  his  salary?" 

"A  thousand  or  twelve  hundred  a  year." 

"Not  a  very  elaborate  income.  No  wonder  he 
would  like  to  run  down  those  counterfeiters.  It 
would  be  a  feather  in  his  cap,  eh?" 

"Most  assuredly.  Do  you  expect  to  double 
up  with  him?  Of  course,  it's  none  of  my  business 
and  you  needn't  answer  if  you  don't  care  to." 

"I  don't  know  what  I'll  do  yet.  This  is  a 
complication  I  want  to  study  first." 

"I  see.    Well,  if  we  can  help  you " 

"I'll  send  word,  don't  fear.  And  if  I  do  send 
word,  I  want  you  to  act  on  the  jump." 

"Don't  worry  about  that.  I  know  if  you  send 
word  it  means  business,"  answered  the  secret 
service  officer,  with  a  laugh. 


An  hour  later  found  Adam  Adams  on  a  train 
bound  for  Bryport  He  reached  that  city  in  the 
evening,  and  from  a  directory  he  learned  where 
the  secret  service  man  resided.  A  street  car 
brought  him  to  within  two  blocks  of  the  dwelling. 
It  was  a  building  of  no  mean  pretentions  and 
on  a  corner  which  looked  to  be  valuable.  Walk- 
ing along  the  side  street  he  saw  that  two  domes- 
tics were  at  work  in  the  kitchen  and  dining  room. 

"He  certainly  lives  in  style,"  mused  Adam 
Adams.  "Wonder  if  he  manages  it  on  twelve 
hundred  a  year?" 

As  it  was  a  warm  night  the  windows  were  open 
and  by  going  close  to  the  house  he  could  hear 
the  conversation  being  carried  on  by  the  servants 
as  they  moved  back  and  forth  between  the  two 
rooms. 

From  their  talk,  he  learned  that  Mrs.  Wat- 
kins  and  her  two  daughters  were  at  Saratoga,  and 
that  it  was  expected  that  the  husband  would  join 
his  family  there  soon. 

"And  we'll  have  good  times  when  he's  gone, 
ain't  that  so,  Caddie?"  said  one  of  the  domestics. 

"That  we  will,"  was  the  answer.  "Better 
times  than  now,  anyway,  when  you  can't  tell  when 
he  is  coming  in  and  when  he  is  going  out.  It  is  a 
queer  way  he  has  with  him  lately." 

"I  guess  he  is  worried  over  his  money." 


A   SECRET    SERVICE    MAN  153 

"Why,  what  do  you  know  about  that,  Caddie 
Dix?"  ' 

"What  do  I  know,  Nellie  Casey?  Tim  Corey 
told  me  Mrs.  Watkins  didn't  git  a  cent  of  the 
old  grandfather's  money,  although  she  said  she 
did,  and  so  did  the  master  say  so.  It  all  went 
to  the  other  part  of  the  family." 

"Then  where  did  Mr.  Watkins  git  his  money, 
I'd  like  to  know." 

"Don't  ask  me.  Tim  says  he  is  flush  enough 
at  the  club  and  other  places.  The  government 
must  pay  him  more  than  most  folks  imagine." 

"Is  Tim  goin'  to  the  Rosebud's  picnic?" 

"Yes,  and  Dan's  goin'  too,  and  Dan  wants  me 
to  bring  you,"  went  on  one  of  the  domestics,  and 
then  the  talk  drifted  into  a  channel  which  was 
of  no  further  interest  to  Adam  Adams. 

He  rightfully  surmised  that  John  Watkins  was 
not  home  and  was  somewhat  puzzled  to  decide 
what  he  should  do  next.  It  was  a  long  journey 
from  Bryport  to  Sidham,  and  it  was  a  question 
if  he  could  accomplish  anything  at  the  scene  of 
the  tragedy  during  the  night. 

"Perhaps  it  will  pay  just  as  well  to  go  to  a 
hotel  and  go  to  bed,"  he  told  himself. 

He  had  just  come  out  to  the  corner  of  the 
street  and  was  halting  at  the  curb,  when  he  saw 
two  men  approaching.  One  of  the  pair  was  John 


154        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

Watkins,  and  the  other  was  a  heavy-set  stranger, 
with  bushy  hair  and  a  round,  red  nose  and  mut- 
ton-chop whiskers. 

"Here  we  are,  Styles,"  said  John  Watkins. 
"It's  a  little  late,  but  I  reckon  the  girls  can  fix 
us  up  something  to  eat.  It's  better  than  going 
to  a  restaurant." 

"Anything  will  do  me,  if  you've  got  a  glass 
of  ale  to  go  with  it,"  was  the  reply. 

"Got  to  have  a  real  Englishman's  drink,  eh?" 
said  the  secret  service  man,  with  a  short  laugh. 
"Well,  I've  remembered  you  and  I  can  fix  you 
up  to  the  queen's  taste.  Come  on  inside."  And 
then  the  pair  entered  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

AN    INTERESTING    CONVERSATION 

ADAM  ADAMS  had  watched  the  appearance  and 
disappearance  of  the  two  men  with  interest.  He 
remembered  that  Matlock  Styles,  the  man  who 
owed  the  Langmore  estate  $16,000  on  three 
mortgages,  was  an  Englishman,  with  mutton- 
chop  whiskers.  Evidently  the  man  who  had  ar- 
rived with  the  secret  service  employee  was  the 
same  individual. 

This  being  so,  the  question  at  once  arose,  what 
had  brought  the  pair  together?  Matlock  Styles 
lived  in  an  old  colonial  mansion,  so  Raymond 
Case  had  said,  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  Lang- 
more  estate.  Did  his  coming  to  Bryport  have 
anything  to  do  with  the  tragedy  or  with  the  coun- 
terfeits? 

Going  close  to  the  house  once  more,  he  heard 
the  two  men  enter  the  parlor  and  heard  Watkins 
order  supper.  Then  followed  a  conversation  in 
such  a  low  tone  that  he  could  only  catch  an  occa- 
sional word.  He  heard  something  about  mort- 

155 


156        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

gages  and  then  a  safe  was  mentioned,  but  he 
could  not  catch  the  direct  connection.  Evidently 
though,  they  were  discussing  the  Langmore  affair. 

In  a  short  while  supper  was  served  and  the 
two  men  passed  to  the  dining  hall.  Here,  while 
the  girls  .were  near,  they  spoke  of  matters  in 
general.  The  meal  finished,  John  Watkins  in- 
vited his  visitor  up  to  his  den  on  the  second  floor. 

As  said  before,  the  house  was  on  a  corner, 
and  by  the  lighting  up  of  a  room  above,  Adam 
Adams  .located  the  den,  just  behind  the  main 
front  corner  room,  and  close  to  a  tree,  which  grew 
along  the  side  street.  Looking  around,  the  de- 
tective made  certain  that  nobody  was  observing 
him,  and  then  began  to  climb  the  tree  with  the 
agility  of  a  schoolboy.  One  heavy  branch  ran  out 
close  to  the  building,  and  standing  on  this  brought 
him  to  within  three  feet  of  the  window,  which 
was  screened  and  open  from  the  bottom  to  admit 
the  air.  The  curtain  was  down  to  within  three 
inches  of  the  window  sill,  thus  affording  the  de- 
tective a  chance  to  peep  into  the  apartment  with- 
out running  much  risk  of  being  discovered. 

"Then  you  say  the  mortgages  have  not  been 
paid?"  came  from  John  Watkins. 

"No,  blast  the  luck!"  growled  Matlock  Styles. 
"I  didn't  think  he  wanted  the  cash  so  I  let  them 
run  on." 


INTERESTING   CONVERSATION      157 

"Have  you  any  idea  how  the  estate  is  to  be 
divided?" 

"I  understand  the  girl  gets  half.  The  wife's 
half  will  go  to  her  two  sons  now." 

"That  is  lucky  for  them.  I  reckon  Dick  Os- 
trello  can  use  all  the  money  he  can  lay  hands  on. 
He's  a  wild  one,  if  ever  there  was  one." 

"Don't  Tom  spend  his  money?" 

"Not  lately.  I  understand  he  is  saving  up  to 
marry  some  girl  in  New  York." 

"Humph." 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  time  both 
men  lit  cigars. 

"How  is  the  bloody  business  going?"  asked 
Matlock  Styles  presently. 

"Oh,  I  manage  to  earn  my  salary,"  answered 
the  secret  service  man,  with  a  dry  laugh.  "I  don't 
get  promoted  though." 

"You  ought  to  try  to  unearth  some  big  mystery. 
That  would  get  your  name  in  the  papers." 

"I  don't  want  my  name  in  the  papers.  I  am 
doing  well  enough.  Ain't  I  on  the  track  of  those 
counterfeits?  What  more  do  you  want?" 

"Yes,  but  you  haven't  got  them  yet,  blast  the 
luck!  And  you  say  you  had  the  safe  open?" 

"I   did." 

"Then  why  didn't  you  look  inside?  I  should 
have  done  so." 


158        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

"I  thought  I'd  get  a  better  chance  later  on. 
But  when  I  went  back  hang  me  if  I  could  work 
the  combination  again." 

"Have  the  safe  makers  opened  the  safe  yet?" 

"I  think  so,  but  if  the  counterfeits  were  found 
the  local  authorities  haven't  said  a  word.  Some- 
body must  be  laying  low." 

There  was  another  pause,  and  then  Matlock 
Styles  brought  some  papers  from  his  pocket. 

"You  might  glance  over  these  bloody  things 
while  you  have  time,"  he  observed.  "Perhaps 
they'll  give  you  a  clue  to  work  on.  You  see,  I 
believe  in  helping  a  detective  all  I  can,"  and  he 
chuckled  broadly. 

As  Adam  Adams  could  see,  the  documents  were 
of  legal  aspect  and  with  them  were  several  letters. 

"Then  the  deal  goes  through,"  said  John 
Watkins. 

"Doesn't  that  look  like  it?" 

"And  the  patent  is  yours?" 

"Yes." 

"I  wonder  what  Barry  Langmore  would  say 
to  this,  if  he  was  alive?" 

"He  wouldn't  like  it  at  all." 

"Do  you  think  you  can  make  any  money  out 
of  the  patent?" 

"Money?    I  hope  to  make  a  fortune  out  of  it." 


INTERESTING   CONVERSATION      159 

"Say,  Styles,  you're  a  lucky  dog  and  always 
were." 

"It^s  because  I  watch  my  bloomin'  chances," 
answered  the  Englishman.  "By  the  way,  were 
you  at  the  inquest?" 

"Sure." 

"I  didn't  see  you." 

"No,  but  you  spoke  to  me." 

"I  did?     You're  mistaken." 

"Don't  you  remember  the  farmer  who  asked 
you  for  a  chew  of  terbacker?" 

"Was  that  you?"  exclaimed  Matlock  Styles. 
"If  it  was  you're  improving.  The  first  thing  you 
know  you'll  be  the  real  thing  and  getting  a  head 
position  at  Washington." 

"I  shouldn't  mind  that,"  answered  John 
Watkins. 

"Where  are  you  going  to-morrow?" 

"To  New  York — to  nose  around." 

"Want  to  locate  the  counterfeits?" 

"I  want  to  see  if  they  have  been  reported.  I've 
got  a  certain  idea  about  them,  but  I  am  not  sure 
if  I  am  right." 

"What's  the  idea?" 

"That  Langmore  girl  has  engaged  a  detective 
named  Adam  Adams  to  clear  her,  if  he  can.  He 
was  dodging  around  the  house  when  I  was  there, 


and  somehow  it's  got  into  my  head  that  he  knows 
about  the  counterfeits." 

"Does  he  belong  to  the  secret  service?" 
"No,  he's  a  private  detective.     I  don't  know 
much  about  him,  but  they  say  he's  a  pretty  good 
one,"  continued  John  Watkins. 
"You  think  he  opened  the  safe?" 
"I'm  thinking  that  perhaps  he  was  at  the  safe 
after  I  opened  it.    The  safe  is  of  a  make  in  which 
the  combination  can  be  changed  with  ease.     He 
could  have  looked  into  it  and  then  have  changed 
the  numbers.     I  certainly  didn't   forget  the  old 
combination — it  was  so  easy,  four  on  forty,  three 
on  thirty  and  two  on  twenty — but  that  wouldn't 
open  it  when  I  went  back." 

"Can't  you  get  in  with  him  and  find  out  what's 
what?"  suggested  Matlock  Styles.  "You  can  tell 
him  that  you  are  working  up  this  case  of  the 
counterfeits." 

"I  may  do  that.     The  trouble  is,  these  private 
detectives  don't  like  to  go  in  with  an  outsider — 
they  are  too  much  afraid  of  losing  the  credit  for 
what  they  are  trying  to  do." 
"Is  anybody  else  on  the  case?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of.     If  there  was " 

At  that  moment  the  door  bell  of  the  house 
rang  and  soon  one  of  the  girls  came  upstairs. 


INTERESTING   CONVERSATION      161 

"Mr.  Martin  is  below,"  said  she  to  John 
Watkins. 

"Is  .that  so?  Tell  him  I  will  see  him  in  a 
minute."  The  secret  service  man  turned  to  the 
Englishman.  "He  is  a  real  estate  man  who  is 
going  to  sell  this  house  for  me.  I'd  forgotten 
that  I  had  an  appointment  with  him." 

"Never  mind,  give  me  that  money  you  prom- 
ised and  I'll  be  going,"  answered  Matlock  Styles. 
"I've  got  a  lot  of  things  to  attend  to  in  the  next 
few  days." 

"I'll  give  it  to  you  in  the  library.  The  money 
is  in  the  safe,"  was  the  answer,  and  then  both 
of  the  men  left  the  room. 

Adam  Adams  descended  to  the  ground  and 
walked  slowly  to  the  front  of  the  house.  In  a 
few  minutes  he  saw  the  Englishman  step  out  on 
the  front  piazza  followed  by  the  secret  service 
man. 

"Where  are  you  going  now?"  asked  the  latter. 

"Home  and  to  bed,"  was  the  reply.  "Good- 
night. Will  I  see  you  to-morrow?" 

"Either  to-morrow  or  the  day  after.  I  want  to 
settle  up  this  real  estate  deal.  I  promised  my 
wife  I'd  do  it." 

The  Englishman  came  away  from  the  house 
and  hurried  along  the  street  to  where  the  trolley 


162        THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

car  ran.  He  boarded  a  car  moving  towards  the 
depot  and  Adam  Adams  did  the  same.  At  the 
depot  Matlock  Styles  took  a  train  for  home. 

Adam  Adams  made  his  way  to  a  hotel  in  a 
thoughtful  mood.  The  conversation  he  had  over- 
heard interested  him  greatly.  He  decided  to 
learn  more  concerning  the  pair,  and  especially 
Matlock  Styles,  without  unnecessary  delay. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A  GIRL'S  RAVINGS 

RAYMOND  CASE  passed  a  sleepless  night  watch- 
ing over  Margaret.  The  doctor  called  once  more, 
as  he  had  agreed,  and  left  another  soothing  pow- 
der, which  the  nurse  administered  with  difficulty. 
She  shook  her  head  when  she  came  out  of  the 
sick  room. 

"What  do  you  think?"  questioned  the  young 
man  pleadingly. 

"To  tell  the  truth,  it  looks  like  a  bad  case  to 
me,  Mr.  Case,"  was  the  reply.  "I  may  be  mis- 
taken, but  I've  had  a  pretty  large  hospital  ex- 
perience. She  doesn't  seem  to  respond  to  treat- 
ment as  she  should." 

"Don't  you  think  I  ought  to  call  in  a 
specialist?" 

Martha  Sampson  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
"That  is  for  you  to  say.  It  wouldn't  be  proper 
for  me  to  say  anything  against  Doctor  Bird." 

"I'll  send  for  a  specialist  at  once,"  said  Ray- 
mond, and  hurried  off  to  the  nearest  telephone 

163 


164 

station.  He  had  some  difficulty  in  getting  the 
proper  connection  with  New  York,  and  then  had 
to  hold  the  wire  until  the  specialist  could  be  roused 
up.  The  expert's  fee  was  large,  but  once  guar- 
anteed, he  promised  to  come  by  the  first  train. 

"He'll  be  here  by  seven  o'clock,"  said  the 
young  man,  on  returning  to  the  house. 

"Will  you  let  Doctor  Bird  know?" 

"Yes,  as  soon  as  the  specialist  gets  here.  I 
want  to  be  sure  of  my  new  man  first.''' 

It  was  six  o'clock  when  Margaret  roused  up 
once  more.  Raymond  was  dozing  in  an  armchair, 
the  nurse  having  retired  to  get  a  short  sleep.  The 
young  man  was  instantly  at  the  sufferer's  side. 

All  the  color  had  left  Margaret's  face  and  she 
was  deathly  pale.  Her  eyes  were  as  bright  as 
stars  and  had  a  look  in  them  that  Raymond  had 
never  before  seen. 

"Are  you  better,  Margaret?"  he  asked  softly. 

"I — I  don't  know,"  she  answered  slowly.  "I — 
I  feel  very  strange  all  over  me." 

"Perhaps  you  had  better  go  to  sleep  again." 

"No,  I  don't  want  to  sleep  any  more,  Ray- 
mond. I  want  to  know  something." 

"What  is  it,  dear?" 

"Will  they  make  me  go  to  the  funerals?"  Her 
face  began  to  show  signs  of  worriment. 

"You'll  not  have  to  go  if  you  don't  wish  to," 


A    GIRL'S    RAVINGS  165 

he  answered,  and  gave  a  slight  shiver  in  spite  of 
himself,  for  the  question  was  such  an  unexpected 
one. 

"I  tan't  go — I  can't  look  at  them!  And  then 
the  crowd  would  stare  so!  Oh,  Raymond,  the 
crowd  is  the  worst  of  all !  Hundreds  of  eyes 
boring  one  through  and  through!  I  can't  stand 
that!" 

"You'll  not  have  to  stand  that,  Margaret.  But 
go  to  sleep,  do !  It  will  do  you  a  world  of  good," 
and  he  smoothed  down  her  hair  fondly. 

"No,  I've  slept  enough — I  want  to  talk.  Oh, 
I  am  not  afraid  to  talk  now,"  she  added,  sitting 
up.  "I  thought  it  all  out  while  I  was  sleeping. 
Isn't  it  funny  that  one  can  think  a  thing  out  in 
one's  sleep?  And  it's  so  very  clear  now — as 
clear  as  crystal — and  it  was  so  dark  and  muddled 
before.  Will  they  give  me  a  trial?" 

He  started  in  spite  of  himself.  "Please  don't 
think  of  that  now,  Margaret,  I  beg  of  you.  Lie 
down  and  try  to  sleep.  I  have  sent  for  another 
doctor,  a  specialist.  He  will  be  here  soon." 

"A  specialist?  How  can  he  help  me?  You 
hired  that  Mr.  Adam  Adams  but  he  has  deserted 
me.  But  then — but  then — he  must  have  learned 
the  truth!"  She  gave  a  sob  and  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands.  "Yes,  he  must  have  learned  the 
truth!" 


166        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"Margaret,  do  keep  quiet,  please!"  he  pleaded. 
"You  need  rest,  you  must  have  rest." 

"No,  I  want  to  talk,  to  tell  you  something, 
Raymond.  I — I  want  you  to  go  away." 

"Away?     Oh,   Margaret!" 

"Yes,  away — you  mustn't  come  near  me  any 
more.  You  are  innocent  and  it  isn't  right  that 
you  should  suffer  with  me.  You  must  go  away 
and  forget  me." 

"I'll  never  do  that.  You  mustn't  even  dream 
of  such  a  thing.  We  are  going  to  get  you  well, 
and  we  are  going  to  prove  your  innocence  to 
the  world." 

"My  innocence?  Oh,  Raymond,  don't  speak 
so — it  cuts  me  like  a  knife!" 

"But  I  mean  it,"  he  said  firmly. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know — you  are  so  good-hearted, 
so  true!  But  haven't  I  told  you?  Must  I  go 
over  it  again?  The  ring,  the  blood " 

"Margaret!" 

"And  that  note,  and  the  quarrels,  and  all. 
Didn't  they  prove  that  I  was  guilty?  Yes,  they 

proved  it,  and  I  must — must Will  they  hang 

me  or  electrocute  me?  I  wonder  how  it  feels  to 
be  hung  or  electrocuted?"  She  gave  a  hollow, 
bitter  laugh.  "I'll  soon  know,  I  suppose!"  And 
then  she  fell  back  on  her  pillow  exhausted. 

The  nurse  had  been  aroused  by  the  talking  and 


A    GIRL'S    RAVINGS  167 

stood  in  the  doorway.  She  gazed  questioningly 
at  the  young  man. 

"Did  you  wake  her  up?" 

"No*,  she  roused  up  and  insisted  upon  talking." 

"She  ought  to  be  kept  quiet.  I'll  give  her 
another  powder." 

"Had  you  not  better  wait  until  the  specialist 
arrives?" 

"Well,  we  can  do  that — if  he  isn't  delayed  too 
long." 

After  that  the  time  dragged  heavily.  Just  be- 
fore train  time  Raymond  took  a  coach  to 
the  depot  and  there  met  the  specialist  and  told 
his  story  as  the  pair  were  driven  rapidly  to  the 
house. 

"It  is  a  purely  nervous  shock,  undoubtedly," 
said  the  specialist.  "I  will  first  find  out  from 
the  nurse  what  the  other  doctor  has  given  her." 

He  was  soon  in  consultation  with  Martha 
Sampson.  In  the  midst  of  this  Doctor  Bird  ar- 
rived. The  local  physician  was  willing  enough 
to  transfer  the  case  to  new  hands. 

"I  am  of  the  opinion  that  she  is  guilty,"  he 
said  in  private  to  the  specialist.  "Mr.  Case,  of 
course,  thinks  differently.  You  can  figure  it  out 
to  suit  yourself,"  and  he  told  exactly  what  he  had 
done  and  then  went  away,  not  to  return. 

Doctor  Fanning  watched  at  the  sufferer's  side 


168        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

for  over  an  hour,  before  Margaret  roused  up 
again.  The  girl  was  very  weak  and  spoke  dis- 
connectedly, but  always  in  the  same  strain.  She 
went  over  the  scene  at  the  inquest  several  times, 
and  spoke  of  the  blood  on  the  engagement  ring, 
as  if  that  was  the  crqwn  of  her  misfortunes.  Then 
she  sat  up  suddenly  and  looked  at  the  new  doctor. 

"Are  you  the  judge?"  she  demanded.  "If  you 
are  I  will  tell  you  all.  I  am  guilty — they  proved 
it!  I  am  guilty!  guilty!  guilty!"  she  repeated 
the  words  over  and  over  again,  until  she  fell 
back  on  the  pillow  as  before.  Then  she  became 
delirious  and  it  took  both  the  nurse  and  Raymond 
to  hold  her.  The  doctor  speedily  opened  up  his 
case  of  medicines  and  gave  her  a  hypodermic  in- 
jection in  the  forearm.  Then  he  made  an  exam- 
ination of  the  patient,  lasting  some  time. 

"I  will  be  plain  with  you,  Mr.  Case,"  he  said, 
drawing  the  young  man  to  another  room.  "This 
is  a  serious  matter — a  very  serious  matter  indeed. 
I  believe  you  think  the  young  lady  innocent  of 
the  crime  of  which  she  is  accused?" 

"I  am  willing  to  stake  my  life  on  it.  She  is 
raving  now,  that  is  all." 

"Um!"  The  specialist  nodded  slowly  and 
thoughtfully.  "Well  then,  we  can  only  hope  for 
the  best.  I  had  better  stay  with  her,  at  least 


A    GIRL'S    RAVINGS  169 

to-day  and  to-morrow — there  may  be  another 
turn  to  her  condition  shortly." 

"Do  your  best,  doctor.  I  am  willing  to  foot 
the  bill,  no  matter  what  it  is." 

"If  I  was  certain  she  was  innocent " 

"I  am  certain  of  it." 

"You  have  the  proofs?" 

"No,  not  that.     But " 

"I  understand  your  situation,  Mr.  Case,  and  I 
honor  you  for  the  stand  you  have  taken.  At 
the  same  time  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  tell  you  some- 
thing. It  is  about  a  case  that  came  under  my 
notice  three  years  ago.  An  old  man  was  mur- 
dered and  his  wife  was  suspected  of  the  crime. 
She  declared  that  she  was  innocent  and  many  be- 
lieved her.  But  soon  the  evidence  began  to  ac- 
cumulate against  her  and  she  had  the  same  kind 
of  a  shock  that  Miss  Langmore  has  experienced. 
She  raved  and  at  last  cried  out  that  she  was 
guilty- 

"And  was  she  guilty?" 

"It  was  never  proven,  although  matters  looked 
black  against  her.  The  case  hung  fire  because 
the  old  woman  kept  growing  worse.  The  doctors 
who  were  in  attendance  did  all  that  medical  sci- 
ence could  suggest  to  bring  the  old  woman  out 
of  her  peculiar  state.  But  it  was  of  no  avail." 


170        THE  MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

"And  the  end,  doctor,  the  end?"  questioned 
the  young  man  eagerly. 

"It's  a  sorry  thing  to  tell  you,  but  it  is  best  to 
be  warned.  The  old  woman  went  mad  and  while 
in  that  condition  she  one  night  committed  suicide 
by  leaping  out  of  a  window.  It  is  a  sad  case  but 
it  may  act  as  a  warning.  Someone  must  be  on 
hand  to  watch  Miss  Langmore  constantly." 

A  long  conversation  followed,  and  the  special- 
ist gave  minute  direction  to  the  nurse,  who  prom- 
ised to  get  another  nurse  to  relieve  her.  Then 
the  medical  man  mixed  up  several  drugs  and 
placed  the  mixture  in  a  glass  with  some  water. 

The  talk  left  Raymond  in  low  spirits  and  the 
young  man  walked  up  and  down  in  the  parlor 
below  in  a  thoughtful  mood.  The  outlook  was 
certainly  gloomy  enough.  What  if  the  shock 
should  prove  so  severe  that  Margaret  would 
never  get  over  it?  In  that  case  it  would  matter 
little  even  if  her  innocence  was  established. 

In  the  midst  of  his  meditations  he  saw  a  man 
come  up  on  the  porch  and  he  opened  the  door  to 
admit  Adam  Adams  and  ushered  the  detective  in 
the  parlor. 

"I  understand  Miss  Langmore  was  brought 
here,"  said  Adam  Adams,  dropping  into  a  chair. 

"Yes,"  and  Raymond  told  his  story.  "We 
looked  for  you  at  the  trial,"  he  added. 


A    GIRL'S    RAVINGS  171 

"I  had  other  things  to  do,  Mr.  Case,  and  I 
read  the  most  of  the  testimony  in  the  newspapers. 
But  I  am  sorry  to  learn  that  Miss  Langmore  is 
in  this  condition  and  I  trust  the  specialist  pulls 
her  through  in  good  shape." 

"Yes,  yes,  so  do  I.  But  we  must  clear  her, 
Mr.  Adams — it  must  be  done." 

"I  said  I  would  do  my  best.  But  this  is  going 
to  be  no  ordinary  mystery  to  unravel.  It  is  deeper 
than  most  folks  suspect.  A  deep  motive  was  the 
cause  of  the  double  murder — a  motive  I  hope  to 
unearth  before  I  am  through." 

"Unless  the  mystery  is  speedily  cleared  up  I 
am  afraid  Miss  Langmore  will  go  raving  mad, 
and  the  specialist  is  afraid  so,  too." 

"Yes,  such  things  have  happened  before — the 
mental  strain  is  too  great  for  sensitive  nerves  to 
bear.  So  I  must  lose  no  time.  Now  to  come  to 
business.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  you  can  about 
Mr.  Langmore's  life  and  his  business  dealings 
with  people  in  this  vicinity." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ADAM  ADAMS  MAKES  A  NEW  MOVE 

IT  WAS  not  until  an  hour  later  that  Adam 
Adams  left  Martha  Sampson's  cottage.  He  had 
gained  from  Raymond  all  the  information  he 
could  and  also  the  names  and  addresses  of  half 
a  dozen  people  he  thought  to  interview.  He 
spent  what  was  left  of  the  forenoon  in  the  town, 
calling  at  the  bank,  and  on  a  lawyer  and  one  of 
the  merchants,  and  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  made  his  way  once  more  to  the  vicinity 
of  the  Langmore  mansion.  Here,  to  his  sur- 
prise, he  ran  into  Charles  Vapp. 

"Is  your  man  around  here?"  he  asked,  as  the 
pair  met  in  the  shadow  of  some  bushes. 

"Yes,  went  into  the  house  five  minutes  ago." 
"Have  you  learned  anything  unusual?" 
"Not  much.     He  has  been  around  arranging 
his  business  affairs  and  he  met  Miss  Bernard  and 
the  two  had  a  confidential  talk,  but  I  couldn't  get 
close  enough  to  hear  what  was  said.     After  that 
he  came   out  to   Sidham   and   there   met   a  man 
named  Matlock  Styles." 

172 


ADAM  ADAMS  MAKES  A  NEW  MOVE  173 

"Go  on." 

"The  two  had  a  long  talk,  and  Ostrello  seemed 
to  be  angry  about  something.  Then  this  Styles 
seemed  to  threaten  Ostrello  and  the  young  man 
seemed  to  lose  all  his  nerve  and  wilt.  I  never 
saw  a  fellow  change  so.  'You  ran't  do  it!'  I 
heard  him  say  and  Styles  answered:  'I  can  and 
I  will,  if  you  try  to  interfere  with  my  business.' 
Then  they  talked  in  a  low  tone  and  Styles  went 
off  in  a  buggy,  saying  he  was  going  home.  Os- 
trello walked  up  the  street  and  down  again,  as  if 
he  didn't  know  what  to  do.  At  last  he  hired  a 
rig  and  came  out  here.  He  went  into  the  house 
and  I  was  just  going  to  change  my  disguise  and 
take  a  look  around  when  you  came  up." 

"I  see.  Well,  Vapp,  if  he  meets  this  Styles 
again  you  do  your  level  best  to  hear  what  is  said." 

"I  did  it  before,  but  they  kept  in  a  corner  of 
a  building  and  I  couldn't  get  near  without  at- 
racting  their  attention.  I  tried  it  once  but  both 
of  them  gave  me  such  a  suspicious  look  I  had 
to  move  on." 

"That's  all?" 

"He  sent  three  letters  and  a  telegram.  The 
telegram  was  to  the  firm  he  works  for,  some- 
thing about  an  order  for  quinine  pills — I  heard 
it  clicked  off  at  the  telegraph  office." 

"Well,  you  can  stay  here  and  I'll  go  into  the 


174        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

house.  If  he  comes  out  you  follow  him,"  said 
Adam  Adams. 

The  detective  found  the  mansion  in  charge  of 
the  policeman  and  Mrs.  Morse.  Both  looked  at 
him  questioningly  as  he  entered. 

"Nothing  is  to  be  touched,"  said  the  police- 
man. "Them's  orders  from  headquarters." 

"Is  anybody  here?" 

"Mrs.  Morse  and  myself,  that's  all." 

"No  visitors  at  all?" 

"No,  sir." 

"That's  queer.  Haven't  seen  anything  of 
Mrs.  Langmore's  son  to-day?" 

The  policeman  shook  his  head.  "You  haven't 
seen  him,  have  you?"  he  asked  of  the  woman. 

"No,  and  I  don't  want  to  see  him,"  she  an- 
swered tartly.  "I  don't  want  anybody  to  bather 
me,"  and  she  looked  directly  at  the  detective. 

"I  shan't  bother  you,"  was  the  quick  reply. 
"But  as  I  am  working  on  behalf  of  Miss  Lang- 
more,  and  as  this  was  her  father's  house  and  the 
one  in  which  she  lived,  I  think  I  shall  take  a  look 
around,"  he  went  on,  in  a  slightly  stiffer  voice. 

"But  orders "  began  the  policeman. 

"You  may  go  around  with  me,  so  that  you  can 
be  sure  I  do  not  touch  anything." 

"Well,  I  dunno "  began  the  bluecoat. 

His  speech  was  cut  short  by  the  banging  of  a 


ADAM  ADAMS  MAKES  A  NEW  MOVE  175 

rear  door,  as  the  wind  caught  it.  Mrs.  Morse 
gave  a  cry. 

"What  was  that?  I  didn't  leave  any  door 
open!" 

She  ran  to  the  rear  of  the  mansion  and  the 
policeman  followed.  Adam  Adams  stepped  to 
the  front  door  and  then  out  on  the  lawn.  He 
was  in  time  to  see  a  man  leap  a  side  fence  and 
start  down  the  road.  A  moment  later  Charles 
Vapp  was  following  the  disappearing  individual. 
The  detective  stepped  into  the  house  again. 

"Well,  that's  mighty  queer,"  muttered  the  po- 
liceman, as  he  came  back. 

"It  is  queer,"  answered  Adam  Adams,  eying 
him  sternly.  "You  had  better  explain  it  if  you 
want  to  keep  out  of  trouble." 

"Explain  what?"  came  from  Mrs.  Morse. 

"You  just  told  me  that  nobody  was  in  the 
house." 

"Well?" 

"A  man  just  left  by  the  back  door  and  ran 
away.  Either  you  knew  he  was  here  or  else 
you  are  not  taking  proper  care  of  these  prem- 
ises." 

"Why,  sir "  began  the  woman,  but  then 

her  eyes  dropped  before  the  steady  gaze  of  the 
detective.  "I — that  is " 

"Who    was    that    man?      Come,    answer    me 


176        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

truthfully,  or  I  shall  report  this,  and  let  me  say, 
my  word  will  carry  great  weight." 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  must  know,  it  was  Mr.  Os- 
trello,  Mrs.  Langmore's  son.  He  wanted — er — 
some  books  he  left  here  some  time  ago.  I  don't 
know  why  he  left  in  such  a  hurry.  Perhaps  be- 
cause he  didn't  wish  to  meet  you." 

"Then  you  admit  you  lied  to  me,  do  you?" 

At  this  the  woman  broke  down  completely  and 
began  to  cry.  "I  didn't  want  to  do  any  wrong, 
sir.  He  said  he  wanted  to  get  the  books  and  he 
didn't  want  every  Tom,  Dick  and  Harry  to  know 
he  was  here — those  are  his  own  words.  He's  a 
very  nice  gentleman,  and  so — so — I  said  what  I 
did." 

"You  let  him  go  through  the  house?" 

"He  had  that  right.  It  was  his  mother's  home, 
wasn't  it?" 

"Yet  you  didn't  want  me  to  go  through." 

"A  relative  is  different." 

"Nevertheless,  I  think  I'll  take  a  look  around, 
now  he  has  gone,"  returned  Adam  Adams. 

To  this  the  woman  felt  she  could  no  longer 
object  and  the  policeman  merely  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  From  the  pair  the  detective  learned 
that  the  safe  had  been  opened  by  an  expert  in 
the  presence  of  the  coroner  and  chief  of  police, 


ADAM  ADAMS  MAKES  A  NEW  MOVE  177 

who  had  then  had  the  combination  set  to  suit 
themselves. 

A  lour  of  the  mansion  brought  nothing  new 
to  light  and  Adam  Adams  left  by  the  back  way 
and  walked  down  to  the  brook.  Then  he  leaped 
the  stream  and  took  to  a  narrow  path  leading 
through  the  woods  beyond.  Deep  in  the  woods 
he  paused,  to  make  several  changes  in  his  appear- 
ance, putting  on  a  light  wig  and  blue  goggles 
and  also  an  old-fashioned  collar  and  necktie. 
Then  he  rubbed  a  little  brown  powder  on  his 
hands  and  face,  rendering  his  complexion  several 
shades  darker  than  ordinary. 

From  a  map  of  the  county  he  had  studied  the 
surrounding  roads  thoroughly,  and  soon  came  out 
on  a  highway  leading  to  Matlock  Styles'  resi- 
dence. He  was  more  than  ever  interested  in  the 
Englishman  and  wondered  what  John  Watkins, 
Tom  Ostrello  and  Styles  might  have  in  common. 

In  the  distance  he  presently  beheld  a  house  he 
knew  must  be  the  Styles  place.  There  was  a  turn 
in  the  road  and  instead  of  going  up  to  the 
house  by  the  front  way  the  detective  leaped  a 
fence  and  passed  through  a  wheatfield.  Beyond 
this,  and  quite  close  to  the  house  and  the  out- 
buildings, was  a  field  planted  with  corn,  between 
the  rows  of  which  were  pumpkins  and  squashes. 


178          THE  MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

He  had  hoped  to  gain  the  vicinity  of  the  resi- 
dence without  being  observed,  as  it  was  now 
growing  darker,  but  he  was  not  yet  halfway 
through  the  cornfield  when  the  deep  baying  of  a 
mastiff  burst  upon  his  ear,  coming  nearer  and 
nearer. 

"Hullo!  this  is  something  I  didn't  bargain  for," 
he  muttered.  He  did  not  wish  to  shoot  a.  valu- 
able dog  and  at  the  same  time  he  did  not  intend 
to  run  the  risk  of  being  bitten  and  perhaps  torn 
to  pieces. 

He  halted  and  drew  his  pistol,  and  a  second 
later  the  dog  burst  into  view.  He  was  a  full- 
blooded  mastiff  and  a  magnificent  creature  in 
every  way.  He  came  to  a  halt  and  showed  his 
teeth,  and  presently  his  mate  also  appeared. 

"Back  there!"  cried  the  detective.  "Back,  I 
say!"  But  the  dogs  only  came  closer,  baying 
loudly  and  eying  him  in  anything  but  a  friendly 
fashion. 

"Hi,  there,  Nelson!"  came  a  voice  from  the 
other  side  of  the  cornfield.  "Hi,  Queen,  what's 
the  matter?" 

"Call  off  your  dogs,  unless  you  want  me  to 
shoot  them !"  exclaimed  Adam  Adams. 

"Blast  you,  don't  you  shoot  my  dogs,"  was 
the  answer,  and  in  a  moment  more  Matlock 
Styles  put  in  an  appearance.  He  carried  a  dog- 


ADAM  ADAMS  MAKES  A  NEW  MOVE  179 

whip  and  motioned  the  animals  away.  "Back, 
Nelson,  you  bloody  brute!  Back,  Queen!"  And 
both  animals  slunk  to  his  rear. 

"Thanks!  I  am  glad  you  came,"  said  Adam 
Adams,  and  slipped  his  pistol  back  into  his 
pocket. 

"Are  you?"  sneered  the  Englishman.  "If  you 
had  killed  one  of  those  dogs  you  would  have 
gotten  into  a  mess,  I  can  warrant.  They  are 
worth  a  hundred  pounds — five  hundred  dollars 
—each." 

"Great  smoke !  I'm  glad  I  didn't  touch  'em, 
sir.  I  couldn't  pay  for  one  leg,"  and  the  detec- 
tive grinned. 

"What  are  you  doing  in  this  field?" 

"I  thought  I'd  take  a  short-cut  to  the  Knox- 
bury  road.  It's  getting  late  and  I  want  to  get 
back  to  the  tavern  there." 

"The  Knoxbury  road?  Why,  man,  you're  a 
good  three  miles  out  of  your  bloomin'  way.  The 
Knoxbury  road  isn't  this  way — it's  over  there," 
and  Matlock  Styles  pointed  with  his  whip. 

"Is  that  so?  Then  I'm  twisted.  Too  bad  I 
I'm  so  dog  tired  I  can't  walk  much  further 
either." 

"Been  taking  a  constitutional?" 

"That  and  I  walked  over  to  look  at  the  place 
where  that  double  murder  took  place.  Awful 


180        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

crime  that,  eh?  Made  me  shiver  just  to  look  at 
the  house.  I  suppose  you've  heard  about  it?" 

"Yes,  everybody  knows  about  it  around  here." 

"They  say  the  man's  daughter  did  it." 

"If  she  did,  they  ought  to  string  her  up 
for  it,"  growled  Matlock  Styles.  "Such  a  blasted, 
cold-blooded  crime  as  that  was.  Was  you  to  the 
inquest?" 

"No." 

"Our  coroner  got  her  to  rights.  He's  a  sharp 
one." 

While  the  two  were  talking  they  were  walking 
towards  the  house,  which  was  a  pretentious  affair 
but  closed  up  on  one  side.  They  halted  near  a 
side  porch. 

"If  I  am  three  or  four  miles  from  the  Knox- 
bury  road  I'd  like  to  get  something  to  eat  and 
rest  a  bit  before  I  start  out  again,"  said  the  de- 
tective. "Could  you  supply  me  with  a  bite?  I'm 
willing  to  pay  whatever's  fair." 

"I  fancy  so,"  answered  the  Englishman,  after 
a  slight  hesitation,  during  which  he  eyed  Adam 
Adams  keenly.  "Polly!"  he  called,  and  an  old 
woman,  with  a  wrinkled  face  and  a  tangle  of  gray 
hair  appeared,  holding  a  cup  in  one  hand  and  a 
towel  in  the  other. 

"What  are  ye  wantin'  now,  Mat?"  she  croaked. 

"Here's   a  gentleman   has  lost  his  way.      He 


ADAM  ADAMS  MAKES  A  NEW  MOVE  181 

wants  a  bite  to  eat  before  he  starts  again.  Fix 
him  up  some  sandwiches  and  some  milk,  and 
whatever  else  you  have  handy  that's  good. 
Where'is  Paul?" 

"Gone  to  town." 

"And  Fred?" 

"Gone  to  see  the  Garrison  girl." 

The  woman  disappeared  from  view,  and  a  mo- 
ment later  Matlock  Styles  and  Adam  Adams  en- 
tered the  dining  room  of  the  abode. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  QUEER  TURN  OF  AFFAIRS 

THE  detective  felt  that  he  was  on  delicate  as 
well  as  dangerous  ground.  Nothing  had  been 
said  to  arouse  his  suspicions  but  he  could  feel  by 
instinct  that  the  Englishman  was  growing  dis- 
trustful of  him. 

"Take  off  your  coat,  it's  bloomin'  warm  in 
here,"  said  Matlock  Styles,  as  he  proceeded  to 
shed  his  outer  garment. 

"Thanks,  but  I'd  just  as  soon  keep  my  coat  on," 
was  the  answer.  "I  am  used  to  it.  Fine  farm 
you  have  here." 

"Pretty  fair." 

"Raise  much  grain?" 

"Only  for  the  stock.  I  deal  mostly  in  horses 
and  in  fancy  dogs." 

"I  used  to  own  a  fancy  dog  myself,"  said  Adam 
Adams  smoothly  and  mentioned  the  fine  points. 
The  Englishman  seemed  to  warm  up  to  this  sub- 
ject and  spoke  of  the  many  dogs  he  had,  and  of 
the  prices  some  had  brought  him.  In  the  midst 

182 


QUEER  TURN  OF  AFFAIRS  183 

of  the  conversation  a  lunch  was  brought  in  and 
the  detective  sat  down  to  eat.  Then  with  great 
care  Adam  Adams  brought  the  talk  around  once 
more  to  the  Langmore  tragedy.  But  Matlock 
Styles  at  once  grew  cold. 

"The  girl  did  it,"  he  reaffirmed.  "They  have 
her  cornered.  It  won't  be  possible  for  her  to 
clear  herself,  even  with  the  best  lawyers  in  the 
country." 

"Do  they  suspect  anybody  else?" 

"I  think  not.  By  the  way,  did  you  say  you 
were  at  the  house?" 

"Oh,  I  walked  around  the  place,  that's  all.  I 
saw  a  policeman  on  guard  there." 

"Anybody  else?" 

"No." 

"Did  you  come  across  the  stream?"  asked  the 
Englishman  quickly. 

"Yes.  I  thought  it  was  a  short  cut,  but  I  got 
left." 

"You  came  right  from  the  brook  to  my  place?" 

"Well,  not  exactly.  I  got  tangled  up  in  the 
woods  before  I  got  on  the  path  that  brought  me 
here." 

"See  anything  strange  around  the  Langmore 
house — any  tracks  or  anything  like  that?" 

"Why  do  you  ask  that?  I  thought  you  were 
sure  Miss  Langmore  was  guilty." 


184        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"So  I  am,  but  a  fellow  makes  some  bloomin' 
mistakes  sometimes.  I  am  not  interested  very 
much  though,"  continued  Matlock  Styles,  and 
gave  a  yawn. 

"I  saw  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary.  There 
were  a  good  many  footprints." 

"Running  this  way?" 

"Running  every  way,  I  thought.  What  kind 
of  a  man  was  this  Barry  Langmore?" 

"A  fairly  good  sort.  He  wanted  everything 
that  was  coming  to  him,  and  so  did  his  wife.  She 
was  a  tartar  and  so  was  the  girl.  I  shouldn't 
have  wanted  to  live  in  the  house  with  them." 

At  that  moment  another  man  appeared  at  the 
doorway. 

"Hullo!  got  company?"  he  called  out. 

"Not  exactly,  Bart,"  answered  Matlock  Styles. 
"Excuse  me  for  a  moment,"  he  continued,  to  the 
detective,  and  passed  out  of  the  room  and  to  the 
kitchen  with  the  newcomer. 

He  was  gone  for  several  minutes  and  during 
that  time  Adam  Adams  finished  his  lunch  and  took 
a  good  look  at  the  room  he  occupied.  There 
was  nothing  unusual  about  the  apartment  and  his 
survey  was  finished  before  the  Englishman  re- 
turned. 

"Now  I  think  I'll  pay  you  and  be  on  my  way," 
said  Adam  Adams,  rising.  There  seemed  to  be 


QUEER  TURN  OF  AFFAIRS  185 

no  excuse  for  his  lingering  longer.  "How  much 
do  I  owe  you?" 

"Not  a  blasted  farthing." 

"Then  I  am  much  obliged.  Will  you  have  a 
smoke?"  and  Adam  Adams  handed  forth  a 
couple  of  choice  Havana  cigars. 

"I  don't  know  as  I  care  to  smoke,  Mr.  

You  didn't  give  me  your  name." 

"Robert  Dixon.     And  yours?" 

"Matlock  Styles.  I  don't  care  to  smoke. 
Bart!" 

At  the  call  the  other  man  came  in  from  the 
kitchen.  To  his  surprise  Adam  Adams  saw  that 
he  carried  a  rope  in  one  hand  and  a  pistol  in  the 
other.  He  was  followed  by  the  mastiff  Nelson. 

"Don't  you  dare  to  stir,  you  bloody  rascal!" 
went  on  Matlock  Styles  to  the  detective. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter  now?"  queried  Adam 
Adams.  The  turn  of  affairs  puzzled  him  not  a 
little. 

"You'll  soon  see  what's  the  matter,"  said  the 
man  called  Bart. 

"I  must  say  I  don't  understand  you." 

"Maybe  you'll  understand  when  you  are  a  pris- 
oner," put  in  Matlock  Styles. 

"A  prisoner?     What  for?" 

"You  know  well  enough." 


186        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"I  am  entirely  in  the  dark.  See  here,  is  this 
a  hold-up?" 

"Yes,  for  we  are  going  to  hold  you  up,  you 
bloody  villain,"  said  the  Englishman,  with  a 
chuckle.  "Don't  dare  to  resist,  or  it  will  be  the 
worse  for  you,"  and  he  drew  a  pistol  from  his 
pocket. 

"But  what  does  it  mean?" 

"It  means  that  I  have  found  you  out.  You 
are  the  murderer  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Langmore." 

"What!" 

For  the  instant  Adam  Adams  was  truly  sur- 
prised. It  was  such  a  turn  of  affairs  as  he  had 
not  anticipated.  He  looked  at  Matlock  Styles 
keenly.  Could  the  Englishman  really  mean  what 
he  said?  He  certainly  appeared  sincere  enough. 

"You  have  made  a  great  mistake,  sir,"  said  the 
detective.  "I  know  nothing  more  of  the  murders 
than  I  have  already  related." 

"I  think  differently,  my  fine  fellow." 

"What  makes  you  imagine  I  am  guilty?" 

"Never  mind  that  now." 

"Why,  I  can  prove  an  alibi." 

"Then  you'll  have  to  prove  it,  and  a  bloody 
strong  one  too,  before  I  let  you  go.  I've  seen 
you  sneaking  around  before.  That's  a  wig  you 
are  wearing.  Bart,  bind  him,  and  do  it  bloomin' 
tight,  too." 


QUEER  TURN  OF  AFFAIRS  187 

"I'll  do  it  tight  enough,"  answered  the  other 
man,  pocketing  his  pistol.  uHold  out  your 
hands,'*  he  went  on  to  the  detective. 

Adam  Adams  looked  around  to  see  if  there 
was  some  means  of  escape.  But  he  realized  that 
between  the  two  men  and  the  somewhat  savage 
mastiff  he  was  squarely  cornered. 

"I  suppose  I'll  have  to  submit,"  he  said.  "But 
let  me  tell  you  that  you  are  making  a  big  mis- 
take and  it  will  cost  you  dear  if  you  make  me 
submit  to  this  indignity.  I'll  sue  you  for  a  good 
round  sum." 

At  this  Matleck  Styles  winced.  Evidently  he 
was  one  who  did  not  like  to  have  his  pocketbook 
touched.  But  then  he  stiffened  again. 

"I  am  willing  to  run  the  risk.    Go  ahead,  Bart." 

Adam  Adams  was  compelled  to  hold  out  his 
hands  and  to  his  astonishment,  not  to  say  chagrin, 
his  arms  and  also  his  legs  were  tightly  bound. 

"Going  to  search  him?"  asked  the  fellow  called 
Bart. 

"Of  course,"  answered  Matlock  Styles  and 
went  through  the  detective's  pockets  one  after 
the  other.  Fortunately  Adam  Adams  had  but 
little  with  him  outside  of  a  roll  of  bankbills  and 
the  material  for  several  disguises.  Matlock 
Styles  allowed  him  to  keep  his  money  but  placed 
the  disguises  on  the  table. 


188        THE   MANSION  OP  MYSTERY 

"That  looks  as  If  you  were  an  honest  man," 
said  he  with  a  sneer.  "Honest  men  don't  go 
around  in  this  fashion.  You're  the  man,  beyond 
a  bloody  doubt,  and  I  am  going  to  hand  you  over 
to  the  police.  Nelson!" 

At  the  call  the  mastiff  came  up  and  looked  in- 
quiringly at  his  master. 

"Sit  down  in  that  chair,"  continued  the  Eng- 
lishman to  Adam  Adams,  shoving  him  backward 
on  a  seat.  "Now,  Nelson,  watch  him.  Watch 
him,  old  boy.  Don't  let  him  get  up."  And  the 
dog  growled  in  response. 

The  Englishman  then  motioned  to  the  other 
man,  and  the  pair  went  out  together,  closing  the 
door  after  them.  Listening,  the  detective  heard 
a  murmur  of  voices  in  the  kitchen  of  the  house 
and  then  all  became  quiet. 

Adam  Adams  was  angry,  and  that  anger  was 
directed  entirely  at  himself.  In  the  easiest  pos- 
sible manner  he  had  allowed  himself  to  be  out- 
witted and  exposed. 

Could  the  Englishman  be  honest  in  what  he 
said,  or  was  he  playing  a  deep  game?  That  was 
a  question  which  could  not  as  yet  be  answered. 
If  the  fellow  was  honest  he  was  most  likely  now 
getting  ready  to  take  his  prisoner  to  the  Sidham 
lockup.  The  absurdity  of  such  a  move  compelled 
Adam  Adams  to  smile  bitterly. 


QUEER  TURN  OF  AFFAIRS  189 

To  escape  was  out  of  the  question.  He  could 
not  slip  from  the  cords  which  bound  him,  and 
at  his  slightest  move  the  mastiff  growled  and 
showed  an  inclination  to  leap  at  his  throat.  So 
the  detective  considered  discretion  the  better  part 
of  valor  and  remained  quiet. 

It  was  fully  an  hour  before  Matlock  Styles  re- 
turned. He  was  alone  and  carried  a  lantern  on 
his  arm,  for  it  was  now  dark  outside. 

"I  can't  take  you  to  town  to-night,"  he  said. 
"I  am  going  to  keep  you  here  until  morning." 

"You  haven't  any  right  to  keep  me  at  all." 

"I'll  risk  that.  I'll  make  you  comfortable, 
don't  you  fear." 

Adam  Adams  thought  rapidly.  Perhaps  to 
remain  a  prisoner  at  the  farmhouse  would  be 
better  than  to  be  taken  to  town.  During  the 
night  he  might  get  the  opportunity  to  escape. 

Matlock  Styles  untied  the  end  of  the  rope 
which  bound  the  detective's  legs  and  ordered  the 
prisoner  to  follow  him. 

"And  don't  try  to  run  away,  unless  you  want 
Nelson  to  make  a  meal  of  you,"  he  added  grimly. 

"Where  are  you  going  to  take  me?" 

"You'll  soon  see." 

The  Englishman  led  the  way  out  of  the  farm- 
house and  past  the  barn  and  several  other  out- 
buildings. Then  he  took  to  a  path  leading  to  the 


190          THE  MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

river  and  presently  came  to  a  halt  in  front  of  an 
old  deserted  mill.  The  building  was  dark  and 
forbidding,  and  an  owl,  hooting  in  a  nearby  tree, 
added  to  the  loneliness  of  the  situation. 

"I  don't  understand  this,"  said  the  detective, 
as  Matlock  Styles  came  to  a  halt. 

The  Englishman  did  not  answer.  Instead,  he 
set  down  his  lantern  and  proceeded  to  bind  the 
detective's  legs  once  more.  His  manner  was  now 
rough  and  he  acted  as  if  he  was  somewhat  des- 
perate. He  shoved  open  a  door  to  the  mill  and 
peered  around  inside.  Then  he  stepped  back,  put 
his  lantern  over  his  arm  and  caught  Adam  Adams 
up  by  the  middle  and  threw  the  detective  over 
his  shoulder  as  if  his  prisoner  were  a  log  of  wood. 

There  was  no  use  arguing  and  Adam  Adams 
did  not  attempt  it.  Indeed,  he  was  rather  curious 
to  see  what  the  fellow  would  do  next.  Matlock 
Styles  entered  the  old  mill  and  then  descended  a 
flight  of  stone  steps.  Below  was  a  sort  of  cellar, 
damp  and  musty.  Crossing  the  cellar  the  Eng- 
lishman opened  an  iron  door  in  a  brick  wall  and 
literally  threw  Adam  Adams  into  the  inky  dark- 
ness beyond. 

"Now  stay  there  until  I  get  ready  to  take  you 
to  jail,"  cried  the  man. 

He  banged  the  heavy  iron  door  shut  and  bolted 


QUEER  TURN  OF  AFFAIRS  191 

it.  The  next  instant  the  detective  heard  him  cross 
the  cellar.  He  mounted  the  stairs,  banged  the 
door  above;  and  all  became  quiet. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

CLOSE    TO    DEATH 

FOR  several  seconds  after  being  forced  into  the 
darkness  beyond  the  iron  door  Adam  Adams 
stood  perfectly  still.  He  heard  Matlock  Styles 
go  upstairs  and  was  fairly  well  satisfied  that  the 
Englishman  had  left  the  old  mill. 

"That  man  has  something  up  his  sleeve  as  sure 
as  fate,"  murmured  the  detective  to  himself.  "He 
is  playing  a  game,  and  a  deep  one,  too." 

The  darkness  was  absolute,  and  although  he 
strained  his  eyes  to  the  utmost  he  could  not  see  a 
single  thing  surrounding  him.  To  all  appear- 
ances he  was  in  a  veritable  dungeon. 

He  sat  down  on  the  cement  floor,  and  bending 
forward,  managed,  after  much  labor,  to  loosen 
the  rope  around  his  legs  with  his  teeth.  Then 
he  began  to  twist  and  turn  at  the  rope  which  held 
his  arms  and  presently  that  also  came  away.  His 
efforts  lacerated  his  wrists  and  ankles,  but  to  the 
pain  he  paid  no  attention. 

With  caution  he  moved  around  until  his  hands 
192 


CLOSE   TO   DEATH  193 

came  in  contact  with  a  stone  wall.  He  paused  for 
a  moment  and  then  moved  along  the  wall,  feel- 
ing carefully,  so  that  he  might  not  miss  any  open- 
ing which  might  present  itself,  and  keeping  one 
hand  in  front  of  him,  so  that  he  might  not  run 
into  anything. 

The  wall  was  smooth  and  apparently  solid. 
Suddenly  he  put  out  his  foot  and  stepped  upon 
nothing  but  air.  He  tried  to  draw  back,  but  it 
was  too  late,  and  with  a  cry  that  could  not  be 
suppressed  he  went  down  into  pitch-black  space. 
He  struck  on  some  sharp  rocks,  and  then  his 
senses  forsook  him. 

The  fall  was  a  perilous  one  and  it  was  only  by 
good  luck  that  Adam  Adams  did  not  have  his 
brains  dashed  out.  As  it  was  he  remained  uncon- 
scious for  fully  half  an  hour,  and  came  to  his 
senses  to  find  a  large  lump  on  his  head  and  the 
blood  flowing  over  his  face.  His  left  shoulder 
was  lame  and  for  the  time  being  he  was  afraid  it 
was  broken. 

The  rocks  upon  which  he  had  fallen  rested  in 
several  inches  of  water,  and  with  this  water  he 
washed  off  the  blood  and  bathed  his  hurts  as  best 
he  could  in  the  darkness. 

The  mishap  made  him  reach  but  one  conclu- 
sion. Matlock  Styles  had  placed  him  there  so 
that  he  might  injure  if  not  kill  himself! 


"The  rascal!"  muttered  the  detective.  "If  I 
ever  get  out  of  here  he  shall  suffer  for  this  if  for 
nothing  else!" 

It  took  him  some  time  to  pull  himself  together 
and  get  his  breath.  Then  he  felt  around  cau- 
tiously, being  careful  to  take  no  more  steps  until 
he  was  sure  of  his  footing. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  knew  he  was  a 
prisoner  in  a  circular  cistern  perhaps  twelve  feet 
in  diameter  and  of  uncertain  depth.  The  walls 
were  perpendicular,  smooth  and  covered  with 
slime,  so  to  crawl  up  was  totally  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. 

"A  pretty  fix  to  be  in,"  he  mused..  "If  Styles 
had  wanted  to  kill  and  bury  me  he  couldn't  have 
started  out  better.  Ha!  What's  that?"  He 
listened  and  then  smiled  grimly  to  himself.  "Rats. 
I  suppose  there  are  scores  of  them  around  this 
place.  I  must  see  to  it  that  they  don't  get  a 
chance  to  feed  upon  my  body!" 

What  was  the  best  way  to  get  out?  For  some 
minutes  the  detective  studied  the  situation.  In 
one  of  his  pockets  he  had  stuffed  the  rope  taken 
from  his  legs,  thinking  it  might  come  in  handy  in 
some  way.  He  made  a  small  loop  at  one  end  of 
this  rope  and  threw  it  upward  a  dozen  times  or 
more.  At  last  it  caught  on  something  and  held 
fast. 


CLOSE   TO   DEATH  195 

Being  on  guard,  in  case  he  might  fall  back- 
ward, Adam  Adams  pulled  himself  up  on  the 
rope.  "It  had  caught  on  a  sharp  stone  close  to 
the  top  of  the  cistern  and  with  an  effort  he  drew 
himself  to  the  flooring  above. 

"Thank  Heaven  for  that,"  he  murmured.  "I 
must  steer  clear  of  such  pitfalls  in  the  future.  If 
only  I  had  a  light!" 

But  his  pocket  light  as  well  as  his  pistol  had 
been  taken  from  him.  Whatever  was  to  be  done, 
must  be  accomplished  in  the  darkness,  and  once 
more  he  set  out  on  his  tour  of  exploration,  but 
this  time  with  added  caution. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  found  a  place  where 
the  cellar  sloped  downward.  At  the  end  was  a 
semi-circular  opening,  not  unlike  a  huge  drain. 

"I'll  follow  this  and  see  where  it  leads  to,"  he 
told  himself,  and  went  ahead  a  distance  of  thirty 
feet,  when  he  found  himself  wading  into  water 
that  was  fairly  clean  and  sweet. 

"I  must  be  close  to  the  river  now,"  he  reasoned. 
"I  wonder  if  I  can  swim  out  to  the  stream?" 

He  hesitated  for  a  minute  and  then  resolved 
to  make  a  dive  for  liberty.  Down  he  went  into 
the  water  and  plunged  along  until  he  was  over 
his  head.  Then  he  struck  out  as  well  as  circum- 
stances permitted.  It  was  a  truly  perilous  thing 


196        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

to  attempt,  but  the  detective  was  on  his  mettle 
and  desperate. 

Twenty  feet  were  passed  and  then  the  force  of 
the  water  seemed  to  drive  him  upward.  There 
was  now  no  turning  back,  and  holding  his  breath 
with  difficulty,  he  swam  on  and  on,  rising  steadily 
until  his  head  struck  an  iron  obstruction.  He  put 
up  his  hands  and  found  that  it  was  a  grating. 
Opening  his  eyes  he  made  out  that  the  grating 
was  less  than  three  inches  from  the  surface  of 
the  river.  Beyond  he  could  see  the  open  sky  and 
the  stars  shining  brightly. 

With  might  and  main  he  tried  to  push  the 
grating  aside.  It  refused  to  budge,  and  he  grew 
frantic,  for  his  breath  was  fast  leaving  him.  It 
looked  as  if  he  would  be  drowned  like  a  rat  in 
a  trap. 

Desperately  and  with  all  of  his  remaining 
strength  he  threw  himself  at  the  grating.  It  bent 
at  one  end  and  came  loose.  Then  he  made  an- 
other attack  and  the  grating  dropped  to  one  side 
and  his  body  shot  upward  to  the  surface  of  the 
river,  out  into  the  life-giving  air.  He  gasped, 
spluttered,  almost  tumbled  down  again,  and  then 
staggered  to  the  shore,  which  was  close  at  hand. 
He  had  been  under  water  less  than  three  minutes, 
yet  the  time  had  seemed  an  age. 


CLOSE   TO   DEATH  197 

He  sat  on  the  grassy  bank  for  a  long  time, 
trying  to  get  back  his  strength  and  wondering 
what  he  had  best  do  next.  All  was  silent  around 
him,  saving  for  the  hooting  of  some  owls  and  the 
occasional  far-off  cry  of  a  whip-poor-will.  He 
gazed  around,  but  not  a  light  was  in  sight.  The 
old  mill  was  beyond  him,  partly  screened  by  a 
number  of  trees. 

Should  he  return  to  the  vicinity  of  Matlock 
Styles'  house  and  set  a  watch?  This  he  thought 
a  good  idea,  but  there  were  two  objections.  He 
was  wet  to  the  skin  and  wanted  some  dry  clothes, 
and  he  did  not  relish  running  into  one  or  more 
of  the  Englishman's  savage  dogs,  when  he  had 
nothing  with  which  to  defend  himself. 

As  he  sat  there  meditating,  a  stream  of  light 
shot  across  his  feet  and  then  disappeared.  It 
had  come  from  an  upper  window  of  the  old 
mill  and  he  scrambled  to  his  feet  to  see  what  it 
meant.  In  a  moment  more  he  saw  another  stream 
of  light  and  then  a  curious  white  cloud  floated  up 
from  another  window  of  the  mill.  At  the  same 
time  he  heard  loud  groans  and  then  a  hoarse  note 
coming  from  what  appeared  to  him  to  be  a  fog 
horn.  The  groans  and  the  white  vapor  lasted 
for  several  minutes  and  then  died  away  together. 

It  was  a  most  uncanny  happening  and  made  his 
heart  beat  a  little  quicker  than  was  its  usual  habit. 


198        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

Then  of  a  sudden  his  face  brightened  and  he 
smiled  to  himself. 

"Make-believe  ghosts  and  nothing  more,"  he 
mused.  "I  wonder  who  is  trying  to  scare  folks 
away  from  the  old  mill?  Most  likely  it  is  this 
Matlock  Styles  and  it  is  part  of  another  game  of 
his.  He  must  have  gotten  his  idea  from  the  old 
miser  in  the  'Chimes  of  Normandy,'  only  he 
works  his  ghostship  a  little  differently." 

He  was  about  to  move  forward  when  a  sound 
reached  his  ears  which  caused  him  to  pause.  A 
dog  was  approaching — one  of  the  mastiffs  he  had 
met  before.  The  animal  growled  ominously  and 
would  have  attacked  Adam  Adams  had  not  the 
detective  leaped  into  the  water  and  begun  to  swim 
away.  The  dog  halted  on  the  edge  of  the  bank, 
and  then  there  seemed  nothing  for  the  detective 
to  do  but  to  swim  to  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
which  he  did,  and  then  disappeared  into  the 
bushes. 

"I  think  this  investigation  will  keep — at  least 
for  to-night,"  he  reasoned.  "I  may  as  well  get 
back  to  town,  get  some  dry  clothes,  and  go  to 
bed." 

His  adventures  had  tired  him  and  he  was  thor- 
oughly exhausted  by  the  time  he  reached  the 
Beechwood  Hotel.  Here  he  explained  that  he 
had  slipped  into  the  river  and  readily  obtained 


CLOSE   TO   DEATH  199 

some  dry  garments,  after  which  he  went  to  bed, 
sleeping  soundly  until  sunrise. 

He  "obtained  an  early  and  substantial  break- 
fast and  then  visited  a  clothing  establishment  for 
another  suit  of  clothing  and  a  hat.  From  the 
clothing  store  he  stepped  into  a  drug  shop,  pur- 
chasing a  number  of  chemicals  and  also  an  ato- 
mizer. Then  he  visited  a  barber  shop  and  got 
a  close  hair  cut. 

At  the  post-office  he  received  a  letter,  dropped 
by  Charles  Vapp  the  evening  before.  It  was 
short  and  to  the  point: 

"The  man  is  keeping  me  on  the  jump.  He 
went  to  see  Matlock  Styles  and  Styles  threatened 
him  with  something  again  and  Ostrello  was 
greatly  disturbed.  After  that  Ostrello  sent  a 
money-order  to  his  brother  Dick  for  fifty  dollars. 
He  is  now  going  to  New  York  again  and  I  shall 
follow." 

This  communication  set  Adam  Adams  to  think- 
ing once  more.  That  Tom  Ostrello  and  Matlock 
Styles  had  something  in  common  there  could  be 
no  doubt.  The  question  was,  What? 

As  the  detective  was  walking  back  to  the  hotel 
he  saw  Raymond  Case  approaching  and  went  to 
meet  the  young  man. 


200        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

"Oh,  Mr.  Adams,  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,'' 
cried  Raymond.  "Have  you  learned  anything 
new?" 

"A  little  but  not  a  great  deal.  How  is  Miss 
Langmore  this  morning?" 

Raymond  drew  a  long  sigh. 

"I  do  not  think  she  is  much  better.  She  is 
more  quiet,  but " 

"She  is  not  clear  in  her  mind?" 

"That's  it.  She  is  now  thoroughly  convinced 
that  she  is  guilty." 

"And  you  do  not  believe  her?" 

"Of  course  not.  I  know  she  is  innocent.  Come 
now,  honestly,  don't  you  think  so  yourself?" 

"I  do." 

"I  knew  it!"  The  young  man's  face  bright- 
ened for  an  instant. 

"But  it  is  going  to  be  no  easy  thing  to  prove," 
pursued  the  detective.  "This  crime  was  no  sim- 
ple matter.  I  am  certain  it  was  carefully  planned 
and  just  as  carefully  executed.  Those  who  com- 
mitted it  made  it  look  as  simple  as  possible  for  a 
purpose." 

"And  you  are  on  the  track?" 

"I  am  on  several  tracks.  I  am  not  sure  of  the 
right  one  yet." 

"Do  you  think  those  counterfeits  had  anything 
to  do  with  the  crime?" 


CLOSE   TO   DEATH  201 

"Undoubtedly.  You  say  Miss  Langmore  seems 
to  be  resting  easier?" 

"Slightly." 

"If  it  would  not  hurt,  I  should  like  to  have  a 
few  words  with  her." 

"Then  come  along  and  we  can  ask  the  special- 
ist I  have  called  in  from  New  York." 

Placing  his  purchases  in  the  room  at  the  hotel, 
Adam  Adams  accompanied  Raymond  to  Martha 
Sampson's  residence.  They  found  the  nurse  and 
the  doctor  discussing  the  case,  and  the  detective 
was  introduced  and  he  mentioned  the  object  of 
his  visit. 

"It  will  do  no  harm  to  speak  to  Miss  Lang- 
more  so  long  as  you  do  not  excite  her,"  said  the 
specialist.  "But  do  not  dwell  on  the  subject  of 
the  murder  too  long." 

"I  shall  not  mention  the  murder,"  was  the 
reply. 

When  Adam  Adams  entered  the  sick  room  he 
found  Margaret  sitting  up  in  bed  with  several 
pillows  behind  her  head.  She  gazed  at  him  in 
perplexity  and  then  gave  a  slight  shiver. 

"You — you  have  come  to  take  me  to  prison," 
she  cried. 

"Not  at  all,  Miss  Langmore,"  he  answered, 
dropping  into  a  chair  by  her  side.  "You  shall 
never  go  to  prison  if  I  can  prevent  it.  But  I 


THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

came  to  see  you  about  something  else.     Do  you 

feel  a  bit  stronger?" 

"No,  I  feel  very  weak.     What  do  you  want  to 

see  me  about,  if  not  about  the " 

"Oh,  I  want  to  ask  you  about  some  of  the  men 

with  whom  your  father  did  business." 
"Didn't  you  ask  me  that  before?" 
"Perhaps  I  did.  But  I  want  you  to  give  me 

all  the  information  you  possibly  can." 
"I  will." 

"In  the  first  place,  you  know  Matlock  Styles." 
"Why,  yes,  I  know  him  fairly  well." 
"He   had   some   business    dealings   with   your 

father." 

"Yes,   he   owed  my  father  money  on  several 

mortgages." 

"Did  they  have  any  other  business  relations?" 
"I  think  Mr.  Styles  had  some  interest  in  one 

of  my  father's  patents — or,  at  least  he  claimed 

an  interest.     He  and  my  father  had  some  differ- 
ences of  opinion  in  the  matter." 

"Was  the  patent  matter  settled  up?" 
"I  do  not  know,  but  I  do  not  think  so." 
"Can   you   t^ll   me    anything    else    about    Mr. 

Styles?" 

The   girl  hesitated  and  then  a   flush  mounted 

to  her  face.     "Yes,  I  can.     I — I  did  not  wish  to 


CLOSE    TO    DEATH  203 

speak  of  it  before,  yet  I  see  no  harm  in  doing 
so.  About  four  months  ago  Mr.  Styles  asked 
me  to  marry  him.  I  told  him  I  could  not  do  so. 
He  was  very  persistent  and  said  he  had  more 
money  than  I  imagined.  I  told  him  that  that 
would  make  no  difference,  that  I  did  not  love  him 
and  did  not  wish  him  to  mention  the  matter 
again." 

"How  did  he  take  your  refusal?" 
"He  was  very  bitter  and  overbearing.  He  said 
I  had  better  think  it  over,  and  he  hinted  some- 
thing about  having  my  father  in  his  power.  He 
did  not  say  it  in  just  so  many  words  but  he  hinted 
at  it." 

"Did  he  mean  about  the  patent?" 
"No,  I  think  it  was  something  else.  But  I  did 
not  pay  much  attention,  for  I  thought  he  was 
talking  merely  to  get  me  to  consider  his  suit,  and 
I  did  not  wish  to  consider  it,  for  I  had  become 
acquainted  with  Raymond." 

"Did  he  ever  bother  you  after  that?" 
"Only  once,  when  I  met  him  on  the  road.  Then 
he  asked  me  again,  and  said  I'd  be  sorry  some 
day  if  I  refused  him." 

"Humph!"  Adam  Adams  mused  for  a  mo- 
ment. "Now  to  change  the  subject.  When  did 
Matlock  Styles  last  call  on  your  father?" 


204        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"He  called  several  times  last  week.  I  don't 
know  exactly  when  he  called  last.  But  I  do  know 
that  my  father  was  greatly  excited  over  some- 
thing, and  that  he  called  in  my  stepmother  and 
she  was  excited,  too.  I  was  not  told  what  it  was 
about." 

"Well,  to  drop  him,  do  you  know  a  man  named 
John  Watkins,  of  Bryport?" 

"Watkins?  Yes,  I  do.  He  once  called  on  my 
father,  about  the  same  time  that  Mr.  Styles  called 
last." 

"Do  you  know  why  he  called?" 

"I  do  not.  I  thought  it  was  about  a  patent. 
I  learned  that  Mr.  Watkins  worked  for  the 
United  States  government  and  I  thought  it  was 
for  the  patent  office." 

"Then  that  is  all,  Miss  Langmore."  The  de- 
tective arose  and  held  out  his  hand.  "Now  take 
good  care  of  yourself  and  do  not  worry.  Matters 
are  bound  to  come  out  right  in  the  end." 

"But  how  can  they  be  better  for  me?"  Mar- 
garet's face  took  on  its  worried  look  again.  "They 
have  proved  that  I  am  guilty." 

"You  are  not  guilty,"  said  Adam  Adams  firmly 
and  looking  her  squarely  in  the  eyes.  "You  arc 
not  guilty.  I  say  so,  and  I  know.  Do  not  worry. 
Rest  quietly,  and  soon  everything  shall  be  made 
plain  to  you."  And  then  before  she  could  an- 


CLOSE    TO   DEATH  206 

swer  he  was  gone.      She  sank  back  among  the 
pillows,  closed  her  eyes  and  heaved  a  sigh. 

"It  cannot  be  !"  she  murmured.     "It  is  too  late ! 
I  am  guilty!     I  am  guilty  1" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AN    UNDERGROUND    MYSTERY 

LATE  that  afternoon  a  burly  negro,  plainly 
dressed  and  wearing  a  slouch  hat,  made  his  way 
along  the  river  road  in  the  direction  of  the  old 
mill.  He  kept  as  much  as  possible  in  the  shade 
of  the  bushes  and  trees  and  when  close  to  the 
mill  sank  low  in  the  tall  grass,  that  he  might  not 
be  seen  by  anyone  who  was  passing. 

The  negro  was  Adam  Adams  and  his  disguise 
was  perfection  itself.  The  detective  was  heavily 
armed  and  carried  in  his  pockets  several  things 
which  were  unusual  to  him. 

He  waited  around  the  old  mill  until  the  sun 
went  down  and  the  stars  began  to  come  out  one 
by  one.  No  one  was  in  sight,  but  this  did  not 
ruffle  him.  He  was  ready  to  play  a  waiting  game 
and  take  whatever  was  to  come,  even  at  the  risk 
of  his  life. 

Presently  he  heard  a  whistle  at  a  distance. 
Then  a  man  appeared  whom  he  rightfully  took 

206 


AN  UNDERGROUND  MYSTERY       207 

to  be  the  fellow  called  Bart.  This  individual 
passed  up  and  down  the  road  near  the  mill  and 
also  came  down  to  the  water's  edge,  to  gaze  at 
the  footpath  on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  The 
man  had  the  mastiff  Queen  with  him  and  the  dog 
came  within  a  hundred  feet  of  where  Adam 
Adams  was  in  hiding.  Quickly  the  detective 
pulled  a  large  atomizer  from  his  pocket.  Then, 
as  the  man  walked  back  to  the  Styles'  farmhouse, 
the  dog  turned  and  disappeared  in  the  bushes  as 
if  following  a  trail. 

"Don't  come  here,  old  lady,"  muttered  the  de- 
tective, as  he  stood  on  guard,  with  the  atomizer 
ready  for  use.  "If  you  do  you'll  be  sorry." 

The  mastiff  was  following  Adam  Adams'  trail 
and  in  a  minute  more  she  came  up  and  set  up  a 
fierce  growl.  Then  she  made  a  savage  leap  for- 
ward. 

The  detective  might  have  finished  her  with  a 
shot  from  his  pistol,  for  he  was  an  expert  marks- 
man. But  he  had  come  prepared  to  strike  a  blow 
without  making  any  noise.  As  the  mastiff  sprang 
at  him,  he  held  the  atomizer  at  full  length  and 
let  a  portion  of  the  contents  fly  full  into  the 
animal's  face.  There  was  a  snarl  and  a  gasp 
and  the  magnificent  canine  fell  over  on  her  side. 
Leaping  forward,  the  detective  held  the  atomizer 
at  the  dog's  nostrils  and  used  it  vigorously  for  a 


208        THE  MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

few  seconds.  It  was  more  than  sufficient  for  his 
purpose  and  soon  the  animal  stiffened  out  in 
death. 

"It's  a  shame  to  kill  so  fine -a  brute,  but  it  can't 
be  helped,"  he  'muttered  as  he  restored  the  ato- 
mizer to  his  pocket.  He  had  used  a  mixture  of 
chloroform,  carbolic  acid  and  other  drugs,  and 
the  dog  had  been  blinded  as  well  as  smothered 
by  the  application. 

He  left  the  mastiff  where  she  had  fallen  and, 
as  the  darkness  increased,  drew  closer  to  the  mill. 
Then  he  saw  a  man  approaching  and  recognized 
Matlock  Styles.  The  Englishman  entered  the 
old  mill,  closing  the  door  carefully  behind  him. 

"More  ghost  work,  I  suppose,"  murmured  the 
detective,  but  he  was  mistaken,  no  such  mani- 
festations occurring.  Evidently  they  were  to  take 
place  later. 

Without  making  a  sound  he  crawled  up  to  a 
side  door  of  the  old  mill.  It  was  unfastened, 
and  pushing  it  open,  he  entered  the  lower  floor 
of  the  building.  All  was  silent. 

He  waited  and  after  awhile  heard  a  step  over- 
head and  a  low  murmur  of  voices.  Then  a  man 
came  down  a  narrow  stairs,  carrying  a  pole,  a 
white  sheet  and  a  round,  flat  pan  in  which  evi- 
dently something  had  been  burnt. 

"Looks  like  the  ghost  outfit,"  thought  Adam 


AN  UNDERGROUND  MYSTERY       209 

Adams,  as  he  crouched  down  behind  some  empty 
boxes  and  bins. 

The  fellow  was  tall,  broad-shouldered  and 
powerful  looking,  and  Adam  Adams  felt  certain 
he  was  not  Matlock  Styles.  He  wore  a  thin 
white  bag  over  his  head,  with  two  holes  for  seeing 
purposes,  and  in  one  hand  carried  a  flash  lan- 
tern. 

To  the  detective  matters  seemed  to  be  grow- 
ing tremendously  interesting. 

The  man  placed  the  things  he  carried  in  a  closet 
partly  filled  with  rubbish.  Then  he  flashed  his 
light  around  carefully.  Adam  Adams  got  down 
out  of  sight  and  placed  his  hand  on  the  butt  of 
his  pistol.  He  was  resolved  to  take  no  more 
risks  than  were  absolutely  necessary. 

Presently  'the  light  was  lowered,  and  taking  a 
peep  Adam  Adams  saw  the  man  kneeling  down 
and  tugging  away  at  an  iron  ring  in  the  floor. 
Soon  a  trapdoor  came  up,  and  the  man,  taking 
up  his  lantern,  disappeared  from  view,  closing 
the  trapdoor  behind  him. 

The  detective  waited  for  several  minutes  and 
then  stole  forward  in  the  utter  darkness.  He  had 
measured  the  distance  perfectly  and  found  the 
iron  ring  with  ease.  He  pulled  upon  it  gently 
but  firmly  and  raised  the  secret  door  several 
inches. 


210        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

A  look  below  showed  nothing  but  darkness. 
He  strained  his  ears,  and  heard  a  faint  noise  at 
a  distance  but  could  not  determine  whether  it 
was  the  flowing  of  the  river  over  the  stones  or 
something  else. 

He  got  out  his  pistol  and  examined  it  with 
care,  to  make  certain  that  it  was  ready  for  use. 
Then,  with  a  quick  motion,  he  threw  up  the  trap- 
door, dropped  below,  and  closed  the  opening 
above  him. 

He  felt  as  does  a  lion  tamer  stepping  into  a 
cage  of  beasts  new  to  him.  He  realized  that  he 
was  on  the  verge  of  some  important  discovery, 
but  that  this  investigation  might  cost  him  his  life. 

He  was  on  a  narrow  staircase.  There  were 
but  ten  steps  and  then  he  found  himself  between 
two  stone  walls  with  the  roof  just  above  his  head. 
Not  caring  to  take  another  drop  into  the  un- 
known, he  advanced  slowly,  taking  no  step  until 
he  was  sure  of  it. 

Presently  he  came  to  a  turn  and  then  another. 
He  could  now  see  a  light  shining  ahead,  coming 
from  under  a  heavy  wooden  door.  The  bar- 
rier was  tightly  closed.  He  tried  it  softly,  to 
find  it  fastened  on  the  other  side. 

There  was  a  strange  whirr  and  a  clicking  in 
the  apartment  beyond,  as  if  some  machinery  was 
in  motion.  But  then  came  a  loud  voice  and  the 


AN  UNDERGROUND  MYSTERY 

other  sounds  stopped.  By  getting  down  on  his 
hands  and  knees  Adam  Adams  was  enabled  to 
hear  nearly  all  that  was  said  in  the  place  beyond 
the  barred  door. 

"I  will  listen  to  reports,"  said  a  voice  which 
sounded  much  like  that  of  Matlock  Styles.  "Num- 
ber One,  have  you  performed  the  ghostly  mani- 
festations?" 

"I  have,  chief,"  was  the  answer. 

"Did  you  notice  anything  unusual?" 

"A  boy  and  a  girl  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river  ran  away  as  if  the  Old  Nick  were  after 
them." 

"Anything  else?" 

"No,  but  it's  Number  Three's  turn  after  to- 
night." 

"Very  well;  Number  Three,  take  notice  of 
that.  Number  Two,  there  are  but  six  of  you 
here  to-night.  What  of  the  other  two?" 

"A  note  was  left  at  the  foot  of  the  tree.  They 
could  not  come,  for  one  had  business  in  New 
York  and  the  other  business  in  New  Haven." 

"Very  well.  Number  Three,  what  of  the 
goods  you  shipped  to  Philadelphia  day  before 
yesterday?" 

"I  have  a  telegram  that  it  was  safely  received 
and  payment  will  be  made  to-morrow." 

"How  much?" 


THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

"Two  thousand  dollars." 

"That  is  fine.  We  are  doing  better  than  we 
did." 

"I'll  try  to  get  more  next  time." 

"Do  so  by  all  means.  The  more  we  get  the 
better  off  we  shall  be  and  the  sooner  we  can 
retire.  Number  Four,  what  have  you  to  report?" 

"I  haven't  heard  from  Albany  yet.  I  think 
I'll  hear  to-morrow." 

"What  have  you  to  say,  Number  Five?" 

"I  met  my  man  last  night.  He  won't  touch 
the  stuff — says  it  is  too  risky." 

"Humph!  What  does  he  expect?  A  fortune 
for  nothing?  What  have  you  to  say,  Number 
Six?" 

"I  got  a  long  letter  from  Denver.  The  man 
out  there  will  take  twenty  thousand  dollars'  worth 
at  fifteen  per  cent." 

"Didn't  you  tell  him  our  rate  was  twenty-five 
per  cent.?" 

"I  did,  but  he  won't  bite  at  that  figure.  He 
says  he  will  go  elsewhere." 

"Where  can  he  go?" 

"He  didn't  say,  but  he  swears  he  can  get  the 
goods." 

"Not  as  good  as  ours.  However,  let  him  have 
the  stuff  at  fifteen  per  cent,  for  the  present." 


AN  UNDERGROUND  MYSTERY       213 

There  was  a  pause.  "Now,  has  anybody  got 
anything  to  say?" 

"I  have,"  spoke  up  the  man  called  Number 
Three.  "I  say  we  must  be  careful.  That  tragedy 
at  the  Langmore  house  has  brought  a  lot  of  de- 
tectives to  this  vicinity." 

"Yes,  I  know  that.  One  of  them  came  over 
to  the  farm,"  answered  the  leader,  and  now  Adam 
Adams  was  sure  he  was  Matlock  Styles. 

"Came  to  the  farm?  What  did  you  say  to 
him?" 

"I  put  him  off  the  track.  He  will  never  bother 
us  again,  to  my  way  of  thinking." 

"That's  sure?"  asked  another  of  the  men. 

"Bloody  sure." 

"We  must  make  certain "  began  another 

of  the  number,  when  a  noise  outside  of  the  door 
caused  an  interruption. 

So  interested  had  Adam  Adams  become  in  the 
conversation  that  he  had  not  noticed  the  advance 
of  two  burly  men  upon  him  and  he  was  not  aware 
of  their  presence  until  one  pounced  on  his  back 
and  made  him  a  prisoner. 

"What's  the  row  out  there?"  came  from  with- 
in the  room. 

"A  spy,  boys!  Open  the  door  and  help  cap- 
ture him!" 


THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

Instantly  there  was  wild  confusion.  The  door 
was  flung  open  and  seven  men  poured  forth,  each 
armed,  and  all  wearing  the  white  head  coverings, 
such  as  has  already  been  described. 

It  was  a  battle  of  one  man  against  nine  and 
the  space  was  so  small  that  Adam  Adams  could 
not  turn  himself.  He  drew  his  pistol,  but  while 
one  man  held  his  wrist  another  wrenched  the 
weapon  from  his  grasp.  Then  the  detective  went 
down  and  was  severely  kicked  and  pummelled, 
until  to  resist  further  was  out  of  the  question. 

"He  ought  to  be  killed!"  cried  one  man. 

"That's  right,  kill  him!"  put  in  several. 

"No!  no!  not  yet.  We  must  question  him 
first,"  said  another. 

The  band  surrounded  Adam  Adams  and  sev- 
eral pistols  were  leveled  at  his  head  as  he  arose. 

"It's  funny  how  the  nigger  got  down  here ' 

began  one  of  the  men. 

"Nigger?"  broke  in  another.  "He  is  no  nig- 
ger. See  how  the  black  has  rubbed  off  his  face." 

The  men  stepped  closer  and  then  one  of  them 
gave  a  start. 

"It's  the  same  man!"  he  cried  excitedly.  He 
turned  to  another.  "I  thought  you  said— 

"I  did,"  was  the  agitated  answer.  "There's  a 
bloomin'  mystery  here.  He  couldn't  get  out !  He 


AN  UNDERGROUND  MYSTERY       215 

was  bound  and  the  door  was  locked — I  locked  it 
myself." 

"Go-and  make  sure." 

Matlock  Styles,  for  it  was  he,  ran  from  the 
room  and  was  gone  several  minutes.  When  he 
came  back  he  was  more  disturbed  than  ever. 

"You  are  right,  he  is  gone !"  he  gasped.  "Can 
this  be  the  same  man?"  He  made  another  ex- 
amination of  Adam  Adams.  "Yes,  you  are 
right.  Well,  he  shall  not  get  away  again !"  he 
added,  significantly. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  DISAPPEARANCE  OF  MARGARET 

"ToM,  I  tell  you  the  best  you  can  do  is  to  make 
a  clean  breast  of  it  and  get  Uncle  Adam  to  help 
you." 

It  was  Letty  Bernard  who  spoke  and  she  ad- 
dressed Tom  Ostrello.  The  two  were  seated  on 
a  bench  in  the  park,  where  they  had  gone  to  talk 
matters  over  without  fear  of  interruption  or  of 
being  overheard.  The  conversation  had  lasted 
over  two  hours,  and  in  that  time  the  girl  had 
learned  many  of  the  young  man's  secrets,  and  in 
return  had  told  him  a  few  things  which  had  as- 
tonished and  disturbed  him. 

He  was  much  downcast  and  with  good  reason. 
For  the  past  month  many  things  had  gone  wrong 
with  him.  The  one  bright  spot  had  been  Letty's 
love  for  him,  pure  and  strong,  helping  him  to 
carry  his  burdens. 

"That's  an  easy  thing  to  say,  Letty,"  he  an- 
swered. "But  it  is  not  such  an  easy  thing  to  do. 
Poor  Dick  is  deep  enough  in  the  mud  as  it  is,  and 
216 


DISAPPEARANCE  OF   MARGARET    217 

it  will  not  be  to  my  credit  to  mention  my  con- 
nection with  Matlock  Styles." 

"Yes,  but  Tom,  you — you — Oh,  how  can  I 
explain?  Can't  you  trust  me  when  I  tell  you  that 
I  am  speaking  for  your  own  good?  I — I  know 
many  things  of  which  you  are  ignorant." 

"Then  why  don't  you  tell  me,  Letty?  Is  it 
fair  for  you  to  keep  silent?" 

"No,  but  then  you  must  remember  that  I  am 
Mr.  Adams'  private  clerk,  and  he  is  working  on 
this  case  in  the  interests  of  Miss  Langmore." 

"I  know  he  is  working  for  her  and  I  hope  he 
clears  her.  I  always  thought  she  was  a  pretty 
nice  kind  of  a  girl,  and  I  can't  believe  that  she  is 
guilty." 

"Tom,  did  you  ever  imagine  they  would  think 
you  were  guilty?"  and  she  gazed  at  him  earnestly, 
as  if  to  search  his  very  soul. 

He  started. 

"Me?  Why — why  should  anybody  imagine 
I  was  guilty?  It's — it's  out  of  all  reason."  He 
drew  a  quick  breath.  "Letty,  do  you  mean  to 
insinuate  that  Mr.  Adams  imagines " 

"You  mustn't  ask  me  questions,  Tom.  But 
think  over  what  you  have  told  me — of  that  letter 
your  brother  Dick  wrote  asking  for  money,  and 
how  you  visited  the  house  on  the  very  morning 
of  the  murder  to  get  the  money,  and  how  Mr. 


218        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

Langmore  took  the  letter  from  your  mother  and 
tore  it  in  half,  and  the  scene  afterwards." 

"Yes,  I  know.     But- 

"And  then  think  of  the  way  by  which  Mr. 
Langmore  and  your  mother  died.  Killed  by  a 
curious  poison,  something  that  they  inhaled, 
which,  when  the  doctor  got  a  whiff  of  it,  gave 
him  cramps  in  the  stomach — a  curious  drug  not 
generally  known  to  medical  science,  a  drug " 

He  caught  her  by  the  wrist  and  looked  fear- 
fully, frightfully,  into  her  face. 

"Lettyl     My  God!" 

A  short  silence  followed  and  she  saw  that  he 
was  thinking,  deeply,  swiftly.  The  cold  perspira- 
tion stood  out  on  his  forehead  but  he  did  not 
appear  to  notice  it.  He  dropped  her  wrist  and 
his  hand  fell  as  if  made  of  stone. 

"Now  you  understand,  Tom.  I — I  am  speak- 
ing for  I — I — want  you  to  clear  yourself." 

"Then  it  has  gone  as  far  as  this?"  He  gave 
a  groan.  "It  was  that  drug — Letty,  are  you  sure 
they  have  found  out  about  that  drug?" 

"Yes,  but  do  not  say  I  said  so." 

"That  drug  is  accursed — a  Chinese  student 
told  me  so.  I  laughed  at  him  then,  but  now  I 
believe  it.  The  first  time  T  carried  it  around 
with  me  I  WP.S  wrecked  in  a  railroad  accident  and 


DISAPPEARANCE   OF   MARGARET     219 

had  my  arm  hurt.  Then,  two  weeks  later,  when 
I  had  it  with  me,  I  got  caught  in  that  hotel  fire 
in  Buffalo.  After  that  a  vial  once  broke  on  me 
and  if  I  hadn't  gotten  away  in  a  hurry  I  should 
have  been  smothered.  And  now " 

"Have  you  carried  any  of  it  lately?" 

"No,  not  for  a  month.  I  was  afraid  of  it,  and 
so  was  the  firm.  We  got  rid  of  it,  and  I  was 
glad  of  it."  He  bit  his,  lip  meditatively.  "And 
they  think — they  suspect — that  that  drug  was 
used?  It  may  be." 

"Cannot  you  trace  where  the  drug  went  to, 
Tom?" 

"That  might  be  possible,  although  a  good  many 
people  saw  and  heard  of  it  while  our  firm  handled 
it." 

"Was  any  of  it  sold  or  used  in  the  vicinity  of 
Sidham?" 

"No,  but "  The  young  commercial  trav- 
eler stopped  short.  "I  think — But  no,  it  can't  be. 
And  yet " 

"What,  Tom?"  she  asked  eagerly. 

He  shook  his  head.  "What's  the  use?  It 
would  only  drag  me  into  the  mud  deeper.  I 
really  can't  see  what's  to  do,"  he  went  on  with 
something  of  anguish  in  his  tones. 

"I  am  certain  the  very  best  thing  you  can  do 


220        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

is  to  go  to  Uncle  Adam  and  tell  him  everything. 
He  will  help  you  and  clear  up  this  great  mystery." 

"But  he  is  working  for  Margaret." 

"Yes,  but  I  know  he  will  work  for  you — after 
he  has  heard  your  story.  But  you  must  tell  him 
everything." 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

"Somewhere  around  your  mother's  home,  or  in 
Sidham,  I  think.  '  I  can  find  out  for  you." 

"Very  well,  I  will  go  to  him  and  ask  him  if 
he  is  willing  to  side  with  me  as  well  as  with  Mar- 
garet. But  wait,  I  think  I'll  go  and  see  Margaret 
first.  You  can  send  word  to  Mr.  Adams  that  I 
want  to  see  him.  Tell  him  I  will  tfe  at  the  Beech- 
wood  Hotel.  He  can  send  me  a  message  there. 
Tell  him  I  can  clear  up  some  points  which  may 
seem  queer  to  him." 

"I  will,  Tom,"  Letty  looked  much  relieved. 
"Oh,  I  am  sure  he  will  help  you  1  He  has  never 
yet  failed  to  accomplish  anything  he  has  under- 
taken!" 

An  hour  later  saw  Tom  Ostrello  on  his  way 
to  Sidham.  His  face  was  careworn  and  he  looked 
to  be  ten  years  older  than  he  had  a  week  before. 
He  was  in  a  thoughtful  mood  and  scarcely  looked 
out  of  the  car  window  as  the  train  rushed  onward 
to  its  destination. 


DISAPPEARANCE   OF   MARGARET     221 

Arriving  at  the  town,  he  speedily  learned  that 
Margaret  had  been  taken  to  the  home  of  Martha 
Sampson  and  was  said  to  be  in  a  serious  if  not 
dangerous  state.  This  caused  him  to  halt,  and  he 
was  half  inclined  to  give  up  the  idea  of  inter- 
viewing her. 

"It  will  only  make  her  condition  worse,"  he 
mused.  "And,  poor  girl,  she  seems  to  have  suf- 
fered more  than  her  share  already.  Perhaps  I 
had  better  wait  until  I  hear  from  Adam  Adams." 

But  then  he  determined  to  learn  exactly  how 
she  was,  anyway,  and  turned  his  footsteps  toward 
the  cottage,  which  stood  on  a  side  street  of  the 
town,  backed  up  by  a  patch  of  woods  leading  to 
the  river.  He  was  just  in  sight  of  the  place  when 
he  heard  a  cry,  and  a  man  came  running  out  of 
the  cottage,  followed  by  a  woman  and  a  police- 
man. 

"Where  is  she?  Where  is  she?"  cried  the  man, 
and  Tom  Ostrello  recognized  Raymond  Case. 

"Hullo!  What's  up?"  queried  the  commercial 
traveler. 

"Margaret!  She  is  gone!"  cried  Raymond. 
He  ran  back  of  the  house.  "I  can't  see  anything 
of  her!"  he  added  with  a  groan. 

"Margaret  gone?     I  thought  she  was  sick." 

"So   she   is.      She   was   out   of  her  mind   and 


222        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

slipped  out  of  her  room  while  the  nurse  went 
downstairs  for  some  broth.  I  was  in  the  parlor 
writing  a  letter." 

"And  I  was  on  guard  in  the  hallway,"  put  in 
the  policeman.  "She  didn't  pass  me,  that  I'll 
swear  to." 

"I  was  only  gone  a  few  minutes,"  said  the 
nurse.  "And  I  am  sure  she  did  not  go  through 
the  kitchen." 

"How  long  ago  was  this?"  asked  Tom  Os- 
trello. 

"Only  a  few  minutes  ago.  Oh,  we  must  find 
her,"  answered  Raymond.  "If  she  wanders  off 
in  her  present  state  of  mind  there  is  no  telling 
what  will  happen  to  her." 

The  four  scattered,  and  a  vigorous  search  was 
instituted  for  the  missing  girl.  Soon  the  news 
spread  and  the  chief  of  police  came  hurrying  to 
the  scene. 

"Collins,  you  are  responsible  for  this  escape," 
said  he  sternly  to  the  policeman. 

"I  did  the  best  I  could,  sir,"  was  the  nervous 
answer.  "She  was  that  sick,  sir,  I  didn't  think 
she  could  get  out  of  bed,  much  less  walk  off." 

"Perhaps  she  is  hiding  in  the  house." 

The  building  was  searched  from  cellar  to  gar- 
ret, and  so  were  several  other  buildings  in  that 
vicinity,  but  without  avail.  Then  the  gathering 


DISAPPEARANCE  OF  MARGARET 

crowd  scattered  through  the  woods  and  along 
the  river. 

"I  don't  believe  she  was  as  sick  as  they  pre- 
tended," said  one  of  the  number.  "This  is  only 
a  bluff  to  let  her  get  away.  I  said  all  along  she 
was  a  sly  one." 

"Perhaps  she  pulled  the  wool  over  the  doctor's 
eyes,"  came  from  another.  "And  over  the  eyes 
of  that  young  fellow  who's  in  love  with  her,  too." 

Raymond  heard  some  of  these  remarks  and 
they  made  his  face  burn.  He  longed  to  knock 
some  of  the  speakers  down,  but  held  his  temper  in 
check  as  best  he  could.  He  realized  that  no  argu- 
ment he  might  advance  would  make  an  impres- 
sion where  opinions  were  so  set. 

Tom  Ostrello  joined  in  the  search  as  diligently 
as  the  rest,  and  he  and  Raymond  ran  through 
the  woods  from  end  to  end  several  times.  Then 
they  procured  a  boat  and  rowed  up  and  down  the 
river,  and  crossed  over  to  the  other  side. 

"She  could  not  have  gone  far,"  said  Raymond. 
"Her  strength  was  not  equal  to  it." 

It  was  dark  by  the  time  they  came  back  to  the 
river,  to  cross  to  the  town  side.  As  they  rowed 
along,  slowly  and  silently,  Tom  Ostrello  noticed 
something  floating  on  the  water.  He  steered 
toward  the  object  and  picked  it  up.  It  was  a 
girl's  summer  hat. 


224        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"Margaret's  hat!"  cried  Raymond.  He 
dropped  his  oar  and  his  face  turned  as  white  as 
death.  "I  know  the  truth  now!  She  has  drowned 
herself  in  the  river!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

ONE    AGAINST    MANY 

SURROUNDED  by  his  enemies,  Adam  Adams 
stood  in  the  center  of  the  stone  room  under  the 
old  mill,  speculating  upon  what  was  to  happen 
next.  He  saw  that  the  men  were  thoroughly 
aroused  and  ready  for  any  crime.  Although  all 
were  masked  by  the  hoods  over  their  heads,  each 
showed  his  rage  and  tdtnper  by  his  movements 
and  his  tone  of  voice. 

"Well,  now  you  are  in  our  power,  what  have 
you  to  say  for  yourself?"  came  from  Matlock 
Styles,  after  a  pause. 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  say?"  returned  the 
detective.  "You  have  the  best  of  the  game  just 
now,  so  it  would  seem." 

"You're  right — and  we  mean  to  keep  it;  eh, 
boys?" 

"That's  so,"  answered  several. 

"As  a  spy,  he  must  suffer  the  fate  of  a  spy," 
put  in  one  of  the  number. 

225 


226        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

"Unless  he  consents  to  join  us,"  added  another. 

"I'd  never  trust  this  bloody  rascal,"  broke  in 
Matlock  Styles.  "He's  too  sharp  for  us.  He's 
a  detective." 

"If  you  don't  mind  telling,  what  is  your  busi- 
ness down  here,  Matlock  Styles?"  asked  Adam 
Adams.  He  thought  it  best  to  put  on  a  bold 
front,  even  with  matters  looking  as  black  as 
they  did. 

"Ha  !  So  you  think  you  know  me?"  questioned 
the  Englishman  harshly. 

"Of  course,  I  know  you." 

"Well — it  don't  matter  much — now,"  was  the 
significant  return. 

"Are  you  transacting  business  down  here?" 

"Don't  you  know?" 

"I   do  not." 

"In  that  case,  it's  best  to  keep  you  ignorant." 

"That's  right,  don't  tell  him  a  thing,"  came 
from  one  of  the  men  who  had  first  caught  the 
detective. 

"I  want  to  know  why  you  followed  me  up?" 
continued  Matlock  Styles.  "You'll  find  it  to  your 
interest  to  answer  me." 

"I  might  answer  as  you  have  done  and  say 
it  is  best  to  keep  you  in  ignorance.  But  I  won't 
do  it.  I  followed  you  up  because  I  think  you 
were  connected  with  the  Langmore  murders." 


ONE   AGAINST   MANY  227 

At  this  Matlock  Styles  started,  but  quickly  re- 
covered. 

"Wftat  made  you  think  that?" 

"Certain  things  I  discovered  around  the  man- 
sion." 

"Bah !  That  shows  how  you  detectives  often 
miss  it.  I  was  not  near  the  Langmore  house 
when  the  murders  were  committed." 

"You  can  prove  that?"  questioned  Adam 
Adams  curiously. 

"Of  course  I  can.  I  was  over  to  Stony  Hill 
with  my  team,  doing  some  trading.  I  stopped 
at  the  tavern  and  at  the  hardware  store,  and 
had  quite  a  chat  with  several  people  there.  I 
left  home  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  and 
didn't  get  back  until  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
If  you  had  taken  the  trouble  you  could  easily  have 
found  out  that  what  I  have  told  you  is  the  truth." 

"You  can  prove  that  you  were  at  Stony  Hill 
from  ten  to  twelve  that  morning?" 

"I  can  easily  do  it.  You  can  ask  Doc  Mason, 
at  the  hardware  shop,  Sam  Ross  at  the  tavern, 
and  Dick  Stout  at  the  stables,  besides  a  dozen 
others.  Why,  I  was  even  talking  to  Mr.  Ander- 
son, the  minister.  He  is  thinking  of  buying  a 
horse  from  me." 

"That  detective  ain't  going  to  prove  anything," 
broke  in  one  of  the  men. 


228        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

"That's  right,"  came  from  another.  "He  has 
got  to  take  his  medicine  as  a  spy." 

"Of  course,"  said  Matlock  Styles.  "I  only 
wanted  to  satisfy  his  curiosity.  Maybe  he'll  die 
feeling  easier  now." 

His  cold-blooded  way  of  speaking  made  a  chill 
run  down  Adam  Adams'  backbone.  He  was  be- 
ginning to  see  the  Englishman  in  a  new  light. 
The  man  was  a  master  of  deception,  not  as 
clumsy  in  thought  and  action  as  he  assumed  to 
be.  And  he  was  as  heartless  as  a  stone. 

"Would  you  murder  me?"  asked  the  detective. 

"It  is  the  rule  of  our  order  that  no  man  who 
acts  the  spy  on  us  shall  get  away  to  tell  of  what 
he  has  discovered.  How  did  you  get  away  after 
I  put  you  in  that  other  room  in  the  dark?" 

"It  was  an  easy  trick." 

"Won't  you  explain?" 

"I  might,  but  it  would  hinder  my  getting  away 
in  the  present  instance." 

"You'll  not  get  away  again,  never  fear." 

"Perhaps  he  didn't  come  alone!"  exclaimed 
one  of  the  other  men.  "He  may  have  others 
with  him,  and  they  may  have  helped  him  to  escape 
in  the  first  place." 

"He  was  alone  when  he  came  to  the  farm," 
answered  the  Englishman.  And  then  he  added: 


ONE   AGAINST   MANY  229 

"Bind  him,  and  Number  Three  and  Number 
Four  shall  remain  on  guard  to  watch  him." 

"Where  shall  we  take  him?"  questioned  Num- 
ber Four. 

"Take  him  to  the  last  chamber.  But  blindfold 
him  first.  He  has  seen  enough  already." 

In  a  moment  Adam  Adams  was  seized  and 
bound  in  such  a  fashion  that  he  could  scarcely 
move  a  hand  or  a  foot.  Then  a  bag  was  placed 
over  his  head,  with  the  eye-holes  to  the  back, 
so  that  he  could  see  absolutely  nothing.  He  was 
led  away,  through  a  door  opposite  to  the  one 
he  had  entered  and  along  a  stone  passageway. 
When  the  party  came  to  a  halt  they  were  in  a 
stone  chamber,  not  over  twelve  feet  square.  Here 
the  detective  was  tied  fast  to  a  ring  in  the  wall 
and  the  two  men  sat  down  on  a  bench  to  guard 
him,  lighting  pipes  and  smoking  in  the  meanwhile. 

"Are  you  going  to  keep  me  blindfolded?"  asked 
the  detective. 

"We  are,"  was  the  surly  response. 

"For  how  long?" 

"Until  we  get  orders  to  do  otherwise." 

"Matlock  Styles  is  your  master,  is  he?" 

"He  is  our  chief.  But  you  needn't  to  ask 
any  questions  about  him." 

"I  don't  intend  to,  but  if  you'll  take  this  off 


230 

my  head  I'll  tell  you  something  worth  knowing," 
went  on  Adam  Adams  smoothly. 

"Is  this  a  game?"  growled  the  fellow  known 
as  Number  Three.  "Because  if  it  is,  I  warn  you 
it  won't  work.  WeVe  got  pistols  and  we  can 
shoot." 

"How  can  I  play  any  game  on  you,  tied  up  in 
this  fashion?  No,  I  want  to  see  a  little  and  get 
more  air — and  I  want  to  get  sq.uare  on  Matlock 
Styles." 

The  two  guards  consulted  together  and  finally 
came  to  the  conclusion  to  remove  the  head  cover- 
ing. The-  men  had  a  lantern  with  them  and  one 
glance  around  showed  the  detective  to  what  a 
stronghold  he  had  been  brought-. 

"Now,  what  have  you  got  to  say  about  Mat- 
lock?"  asked  one  of  the  men. 

"You  say  he  is  your  chief.  Have  you  any  idea 
as  to  whether  he  is  treating  you  fairly?" 

"Why  do  you  ask  that?" 

"Well,  perhaps  it  is  nothing  to  me,  but  if  I 
was  taking  the  risks  you  take  I'd  want  all  that 
was  coming  to  me." 

c'We  get  our  share." 

"How  do  you  know?  I  once  exposed  a  gang 
of  counterfeiters  in  Maine  and  I  found  that  the 
chief,  Bill  Davidson,  was  getting  the  lion  share 
of  the  returns.  More  than  that,  when  the  ex- 


ONE   AGAINST    MANY  231 

posure  came,  Davidson  tried  his  best  to  get  out 
of  it  by  turning  State's  evidence." 

"And  did  he  get  out?"  asked  one  of  the  men, 
becoming  interested. 

"No,  he  did  not.  I  would  not  allow  it.  I  got 
two  of  the  other  men  to  tell  the  truth,  and  David- 
son got  twenty  years." 

"And  what  of  the  other  men?" 

"One  got  scared  and  ran  away  and  the  authori- 
ties let  him  slide.  The  other  man  was  not  prose- 
cuted. The  rest  of  the  gang,  four  of  them,  got 
from  five  to  twelve  years  each." 

"Are  you  a  government  detective?" 

"Not  exactly,  although  I  occasionally  work  for 
the  government.  Here  is  another  thing  I  want 
you  two  fellows  to  know.  The  government  has 
been  hot-footed  after  your  counterfeits  ever  since 
they  were  first  marketed." 

"Humph,  they  ain't  found  out  much." 

"You  are  mistaken,  they  have  found  out  a 
great  deal.  I  am  only  at  one  end  of  this  game, 
and  I  must  say  I  have  put  my  foot  into  it  bad." 

"That's  right,"  commented  Number  Three. 
He  was  a  small-built  man  and  evidently  of  a 
vicious  temper. 

"I  am  sorry  in  more  ways  than  one,"  continued 
the  detective,  not  appearing  to  notice  the  inter- 
ruption. "I'd  like  to  get  out  of  this  mess  and 


232        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

get  ahead  of  the  other  fellows  working  on  this 
case.  It  would  mean  great  credit  to  me  and  a 
big  reward  besides.  The  gang  is  bound  to  be 
rounded  up  very  soon  now,  and  when  one  or  two 
are  caught  they'll  tell  on  the  others.  If  I  could 
get  somebody  to  help  me  out  of  this  scrape,  and 
put  me  next  to  the  whole  game,  I'd  pay  him  well 
and  see  that  he  got  out  with  a  whole  skin  in  the 
bargain." 

"Look  here,  you  can't  bribe  me,  so  don't  try 
it!"  growled  Number  Three.  "I'm  •"  this  game 
to  a  finish,  see?  I  never  got  caught  yet  and 
I  don't  intend  to  begin  now." 

"All  counterfeiters  get  caught  sooner  or  later." 

Adam  Adams  directed  his  words  especially  to 
Number  Four,  a  big-boned  young  man,  who  was 
plainly  nervous.  The  fellow  fumbled  with  his 
pipe  but  made  no  reply. 

"I  always  help  the  man  who  helps  me,"  went 
on  the  detective.  "And  I  am  so  well  known  in 
my  profession  that  my  word  counts  for  a  great 
deal.  I  can  save  a  man  if  he  will  only  put  his 
trust  in  me.  I  have  done  it  many  a  time." 

"Ah,  I  don't  want  to  hear  your  fairy  stories," 
growled  Number  Three,  but  Number  Four 
merely  shrugged  his  shoulders,  knocked  his  pipe 
clean  and  restored  the  article  to  his  pocket. 

The  detective  continued  to  talk,  in  a  low  and 


ONE    AGAINST    MANY  233 

earnest  manner.  He  was  really  pleading  for  his 
life,  for  he  realized  that  it  was  not  Matlock 
Styles' .intention  to  let  him  escape  again.  As  soon 
as  the  counterfeiters  were  sure  the  coast  was  clear 
outside,  they  would  turn  again  to  the  prisoner 
and  settle  his  fate. 

Thus  an  hour  passed  and  then  came  a  low 
whistle.  A  minute  later  Matlock  Styles  entered 
the  stone  chamber. 

"We'll  get  to  business  again,"  he  said  shortly. 
"We  have  no  time  to  spare." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  next?"  asked  Num- 
ber Four,  and  Adam  Adams  thought  he  detected 
a  tremor  in  the  tones. 

"We  are  going  to  draw  lots  as  to  who  is  to 
dispose  of  the  prisoner." 

"How  is  he  to  be  killed?"  asked  Number 
Three. 

"That  can  be  decided  by  the  man  who  draws 
the  red  ball,"  was  the  Englishman's  cold-blooded 
response. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY 

"IF  I  can't  get  away  now  I  am  doomed!" 

It  was  Adam  Adams  who  uttered  the  words  in 
a  low  but  firm  voice.  He  sat  on  a  small  bench,  in 
the  stone  chamber.  His  feet  were  bound  with  a 
rope  and  his  hands  were  chained  to  a  ring  in  the 
wall  behind  him. 

The  counterfeiters  had  started  to  draw  lots,  to 
see  who  should  be  the  one  to  do  the  detective  to 
death.  Then  had  come  an  interruption,  in  the 
shape  of  an  important  message,  and  the  detective 
had  been  bundled  off  by  himself,  while  the  com- 
munication was  under  discussion. 

Adam  Adams  knew  that  his  situation  was  a  des- 
perate one.  The  counterfeiters  were  a  gang  who 
would  stop  at  nothing  to  keep  their  secrets.  The 
only  one  who  appeared  to  be  at  all  timid  was  the 
fellow  known  as  Number  Four.  Possibly  if  he 
could  get  this  fellow  alone  and  work  on  his  feel- 
ings Number  Four  might  aid  him.  But  just  now 
such  a  course  seemed  out  of  the  question. 

234 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY     235 

The  detective  listened  attentively,  but  only  a 
faint  murmur  of  voices  reached  his  ears.  The 
counterfeiters  were  having  an  animated  discus- 
sion over  something,  but  they  were  on  their  guard 
so  that  not  even  their  prisoner  might  hear. 

"Wonder  why  they  are  so  careful?"  mused  the 
detective  grimly.  "If  they  are  going  to  take  my 
life  I  don't  see  what  difference  it  will  make 
whether  I  know  their  secrets  or  not." 

Adam  Adams  was  not  the  man  to  give  in  easily. 
Upon  every  case  where  his  services  were  called 
for,  he  usually  "kept  at  it"  until  every  possibility 
was  exhausted.  He  did  not  give  in  now,  yet  it 
must  be  confessed,  being  but  human,  his  heart  was 
somewhat  heavy. 

"I'll  have  to  take  chances,"  he  told  himself. 
"Anything  is  better  than  to  let  them  kill  me  in 
cold  blood." 

He  waited  for  a  few  minutes,  to  find  out  if 
anybody  was  coming  to  watch  him.  One  of  the 
counterfeiters  came  in,  looked  him  over  in  silence, 
and  then  passed  out  again,  this  time  closing  the 
door  more  tightly  than  before. 

As  soon  as  the  fellow  had  departed,  Adam 
Adams  commenced  to  work  on  his  bonds.  He 
had  studied  all  sorts  of  handcuffs,  and  knew  well 
how  to  manage  his  hands  and  wrists  when  being 
fastened.  He  had  not  been  able  to  get  the  bet- 


236        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

ter  of  the  fellow  at  the  cottage,  but  now  it  was 
different,  and,  with  a  twist  of  his  wrists,  he  with- 
drew first  one  hand  and  then  the  other. 

With  his  hands  free,  it  was  an  easy  matter  to 
untie  his  feet.  This  done,  he  arose  and  tiptoed 
his  way  to  the  door.  He  opened  the  barrier  with 
caution,  and  peered  out. 

The  sight  that  met  his  gaze  was  not  a  reassur- 
ing one.  The  counterfeiters  sat  on  all  sides  of 
the  room,  and  each  had  a  pistol  where  it  could 
be  gotten  at  with  ease. 

"It's  got  to  be  done !"  Matlock  Styles  was  say- 
ing. "It  should  have  been  done  long  ago." 

"All  right,  I'll  do  it,"  grumbled  another  mem- 
ber of  the  band.  "But  I'll  be  running  a  big  risk." 

"Not  half  the  bloomin'  risk  I've  been  running," 
grumbled  the  Englishman. 

"What  about  the  word  from  Buffalo?"  asked 
another. 

"We'll  settle  that  to-night — after  we  have  set- 
tled about  our  prisoner." 

"I've  got  to  get  back  to  New  York." 

"How  soon?" 

"Just  as  soon  as  possible." 

"Do  you  want  to  take  the  letter  along?" 

"Yes;  I  gave  my  word  I'd  bring  the  letter." 

"All  right,  then;  we'll  have  to  write  the  letter, 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY     237 

and  each  man  sign  it,"  said  Matlock  Styles.  "But, 
I  must  say,  I  don't  like  this  way  of  doing  things." 

"No-  more  do  I,"  growled  another  of  the  band. 

"It's  putting  a  fellow's  head  under  the  axe," 
came  from  Number  Four. 

"Oh,  don't  get  scared!"  came  from  another. 
"I  know  Luffer— he's  O.  K." 

"Everybody  is  O.  K.  until  he  gets  in  a  tight 
corner  and  squeals,"  grumbled  Number  Four. 

"Kicking  again,  eh?"  roared  Matlock  Styles, 
glaring  sourly  at  Number  Four. 

"Oh,  no;  I'll  do  as  the  others  say!"  answered 
the  big-boned  young  man,  but  with  a  slight  trem- 
ble in  his  voice.  Then  all  of  the  counterfeiters 
gathered  around  a  table,  to  dictate  and  sign  a 
certain  letter  some  outside  party  had  demanded. 

Adam  Adams  did  not  stop  to  listen  to  all  of 
this  conversation.  He  felt  that  if  he  was  to  get 
away  he  must  lose  no  time  in  making  the  attempt. 
For  a  moment  he  thought  to  rush  past  the  coun- 
terfeiters and  try  to  gain  the  regular  entrance  to 
the  den,  but  then  he  realized  the  foolishness  of 
such  an  attempt.  Before  he  got  a  dozen  steps, 
they  would  fire  at  him,  and,  most  likely,  kill  him. 

He  closed  the  door  gently,  and,  seeing  a  small 
stick  of  wood  on  the  floor,  stuck  this  under  the 
barrier  and  shoved  it  as  tight  as  possible.  Then 


238        THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

he  took  up  the  bench  and  braced  this  under  the 
handle  of  the  door,  so  that  to  shove  the  door  in- 
wards would  be  all  but  impossible. 

"Now,  then,  to  see  if  there  is  some  other  way 
out,"  he  mused. 

A  lantern,  hanging  on  a  nail,  lit  up  the  stone 
chamber.  Taking  the  light  in  hand,  he  com- 
menced a  rapid  but  thorough  investigation  of  his 
prison. 

The  walls  were  practically  solid,  the  only  break 
being  at  the  door  and  on  the  opposite  side,  where 
there  had  once  been  another  door.  This  second 
doorway  had  been  bricked  up  to  within  six  inches 
of  the  top,  which  had  been  left  open,  probably 
for  ventilation. 

Standing  on  tiptoes,  Adam  Adams  held  up  the 
lantern  and  looked  through  the  ventilating  space. 
Some  cool  air  coming  in,  told  him  that  the  pas- 
sageway beyond  must  lead  to  the  outer  world. 

"If  that  opening  was  only  a  bit  larger  a  fellow 
might  crawl  through,"  was  what  he  told  himself. 

He  set  the  lantern  down  and  felt  of  the  wall, 
putting  his  arm  through  the  opening.  It  was 
about  a  foot  thick,  and  the  bricks  were  well  laid, 
in  good  cement. 

"Not  much  show  there,"  he  reasoned  grimly. 
"If  a  fellow  had  time,  it  could  be  done.  But  it 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY     239 

would  take  hours — with  only  a  pocketknife — and 
they'd  be  sure  to  hear  the  noise.  I  must  see  if 
there  isn't  some  other  way." 

He  listened  at  the  door  for  a  moment.  The 
counterfeiters  were  still  at  work  over  the  letter, 
and  another  angry  discussion  was  in  full  sway. 
Then  he  held  up  the  lantern,  looking  at  the  floor- 
ing over  his  head. 

The  planks  were  heavy  but  old,  and  several 
of  them  looked  to  be  pretty  well  rotted.  Picking 
up  a  stick  that  was  handy,  he  poked  at  one  plank 
after  another.  It  was  not  long  before  he  came 
to  one  that  was  so  far  decayed  that  the  end  of 
the  stick  went  through  it  with  ease. 

There  was  nothing  to  stand  upon  but  the  bench, 
and  so  he  took  it  away  from  the  door  and  placed 
it  directly  under  the  decayed  plank.  Then  he 
stood  up  and  pushed  on  the  plank  with  both 
hands.  It  gave  way,  sending  down  a  shower  of 
dust  and  mold  in  his  face,  and  almost  blinding 
him. 

He  had  made  considerable  noise,  but  angry 
words  between  the  men  in  the  other  chamber 
drowned  out  the  sounds.  Catching  up  the  lantern 
once  more,  he  lifted  it  through  the  opening  over 
his  head,  and  tried  to  look  around. 

He  could  see  but  little,  excepting  boxes  and  bar- 


240        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

rels,  some  as  decayed  as  was  the  floor.  Evi- 
dently the  apartment  above  had  once  been  a  store- 
room, but  had  not  been  used  for  years. 

Adam  Adams  did  not  speculate  long  over  what 
to  do  next.  He  felt  that  the  farther  he  got  from 
the  counterfeiters  the  better  off  he  would  be.  Set- 
ting the  lantern  on  the  floor  above,  he  took  a 
firm  hold  on  a  plank  that  looked  fairly  strong, 
and  drew  himself  up.  It  was  a  tight  squeeze, 
but  he  had  been  through  many  tight  squeezes  be- 
fore, so  did  not  mind  it. 

Once  in  the  storeroom,  his  next  move  was  to 
place  what  was  left  of  the  broken  plank  into 
position,  and  on  it  he  piled  several  empty  boxes 
and  barrels. 

"That  may  keep  them  guessing  as  to  how  I  got 
out  of  the  room  below,"  he  thought.  "They'll 
find  out  sooner  or  later — but  the  later  the  better." 

Lantern  in  hand,  he  moved  cautiously  around 
the  old  storeroom.  There  were  many  empty 
boxes  and  barrels,  and  also  sacks  that  contained 
musty  flour.  Rats  were  in  evidence,  and  they 
scurried  hither  and  thither  as  the  detective  moved 
around. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  discovered  two 
doors.  One  was  nailed  up,  and  where  it  led  to, 
he  could  not  surmise.  The  other  stood  partly 
open,  and  through  it  came  a  whiff  of  fresh  air. 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY     241 

"That  smells  like  liberty,"  he  thought,  as  he 
breathed  in  the  fresh  air. 

He  looked  down  a  passageway,  with  a  flooring 
partly  of  brick  and  partly  of  stone.  Where  it  led 
to,  there  was  no  telling. 

Feeling  that  it  would  be  unwise  to  use  the 
light  longer,  he  put  it  out.  But  he  kept  the  lan- 
tern in  his  hand,  for  possible  use  in  the  future, 
either  to  show  the  way  or  as  a  weapon. 

The  passageway  made  several  turns,  and  in 
the  darkness  he  had  to  feel  his  way  along.  Then 
he  reached  a  flight  of  stone  steps,  leading  down- 
ward. 

"I  don't  want  to  go  down — I  want  to  go  up," 
he  reasoned.  But  there  seemed  no  help  for  it, 
and  down  he  went,  sixteen  steps,  to  land  in  a 
small  room  at  the  bottom. 

Here  all  was  pitch-dark,  and  for  the  moment 
he  stood  still,  not  knowing  in  what  direction  to 
move  next.  All  around  him  were  stone  walls. 

Presently  he  felt  a  small  iron  door.  He  took 
hold  of  the  handle  and  found  the  door  locked. 

Curious  to  learn  his  whereabouts,  he  felt  for 
a  match,  struck  it,  and  lit  the  lantern  once  more. 
A  brief  glance  at  the  door  caused  a  look  of  won- 
der to  overspread  his  face.  The  door  was  locked 
with  a  combination  lock,  similar  in  make-up  to 
the  lock  on  a  safe. 


THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

He  gazed  around,  and  soon  learned  that  there 
was  no  exit  from  where  he  was,  save  by  the  flight 
of  stone  steps.  To  get  out,  he  would  have  to 
go  back. 

He  gazed  again  at  the  small  iron  door,  set  in 
an  iron  frame,  embedded  in  the  stone  wall.  What 
could  be  behind  that  barrier?  Most  likely  some- 
thing of  great  value. 

On  the  floor  at  his  feet  was  a  bit  of  dirty  white 
paper.  Mechanically,  he  picked  it  up  and  looked 
it  over.  On  it  was  the  following: 

O— 4 

L  2 12 

R353 

L244 

"The  combination!"  he  murmured.  "Some- 
body had  it  on  that  paper  and  dropped  it.  Shall 
I  try  to  work  it,  or  try  to  get  out?" 

His  better  judgment  told  him  he  should  try  to 
make  his  escape.  But  he  was  curious  to  know 
what  was  behind  that  iron  door;  and,  setting  the 
lantern  down,  he  commenced  to  work  the  combi- 
nation knob.  He  twirled  the  knob  around  four 
times  and  stopped  at  o.  Then  he  began  on  the 
combination  proper — twice  to  the  left,  stopping  at 
12;  three  times  to  the  right,  stopping  at  53;  and 
then  twice  to  the  left  again,  stopping  at  44.  Then 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY     243 

he  came  around  slowly  to  o  again.  There  fol- 
lowed a  click.  The  combination  was  off. 

He  twisted  the  handle  of  the  iron  door  and 
pulled  upon  it.  It  came  open  noiselessly,  reveal- 
ing a  stone  chamber  beyond,  eight  feet  square, 
and  equally  high. 

Lantern  in  hand,  Adam  Adams  stepped  into 
the  vault  and  gazed  around  eagerly.  On  two 
sides  were  wooden  shelves,  six  in  number.  On 
the  shelves  rested  several  boxes,  of  wood  and  of 
metal. 

He  opened  one  of  the  boxes,  and  gazed  at 
the  contents  with  interest.  It  contained  a  quantity 
of  haired  paper,  almost  an  exact  duplicate  of  the 
haired  paper  used  in  the  making  of  banknotes. 

He  looked  at  another  box.  This  also  contained 
paper.  The  third  box  held  a  quantity  of  counter- 
feits, the  amount  of  which  made  even  the  matter- 
of-fact  detective  gasp. 

"If  they  ever  floated  these,  they  would  be  the 
richest  gang  of  counterfeiters  in  the  world!"  was 
his  mental  comment.  He  had  no  idea  of  the 
exact  amount,  but  saw  that  it  would  total  up  to 
a  tremendous  sum. 

Fie  turned  to  one  of  the  metal  boxes.  It  was 
empty,  and  he  set  it  down  again.  Then  he  took 
up  another  box  that  was  fairly  heavy,  and  threw 
open  the  cover. 


244        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

There,  resting  on  some  thick  blotting  paper, 
was  a  counterfeit  plate — a  plate  undoubtedly  used 
for  printing  the  backs  of  the  spurious  $100  bills! 

Adam  Adams  could  not  help  but  gaze  at  that 
plate  with  interest.  How  the  Secret  Service  men 
had  worked  to  bring  that  plate  to  light,  and 
arrest  the  users!  And  here  he,  in  following  up 
the  clues  of  one  crime,  had  stumbled  upon  the 
broad  trail  of  another. 

As  he  put  the  plate  down,  a  noise  reached  his 
ears.  By  instinct,  he  blew  out  the  lantern  and 
listened.  The  noise  was  that  from  footsteps  at  a 
distance.  Then  he  heard  a  murmur  of  voices, 
quickly  growing  louder. 

"They  have  discovered  my  escape,"  he  told  him- 
self. And  then  he  blamed  himself  for  not  having 
made  better  use  of  his  time  in  an  endeavor  to  get 
away. 

He  stepped  out  of  the  vault,  and  listened  with 
strained  ears.  The  counterfeiters  had  separated, 
and  were  searching  in  all  directions  for  him. 

"If  they  come  this  way,  I'll  have  to  fight,"  he 
reasoned.  "I  might  as  well  die  that  way,  as  to 
be  killed  in  cold  blood." 

But  then  a  sudden  idea  came  to  him,  and  as 
quickly  as  he  had  left  the  vault,  he  returned  to  it. 
Footsteps  were  coming  closer,  and  he  had  no  time 
to  spare. 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY     245 

One  of  the  shelves  of  the  vault  was  close  to 
the  top  and  very  broad.  Up  on  this  climbed  the 
detective,  and  laid  out  at  full  length,  as  close  to 
the  wall  as  possible.  In  front  of  him  he  held  two 
of  the  wooden  boxes  containing  the  haired  paper. 

Somebody  came  closer,  and  he  heard  talking 
in  the  passageway  at  the  foot  of  the  stone  steps. 
A  hand  was  placed  on  the  door  of  the  vault. 

"Who  left  this  unlocked?"  came  in  Matlock 
Styles'  voice. 

"Is  it  unlocked?"  asked  another  of  the  band. 

"Yes." 

"That  is  strange.  It  was  locked  yesterday;  I 
am  sure  of  it." 

"Maybe  that  bloody  rascal  got  here!"  growled 
the  Englishman. 

"How  could  he  work  the  combination?" 

"Oh,  some  of  those  chaps  are  keener  than  you 
think.  Wait,  hold  up  the  light." 

Matlock  Styles  opened  the  door  and  gazed  into 
the  vault.  For  the  moment  he  saw  nothing. 

"Not  here,"  he  said  briefly.  "Come  on;  we'll 
have  to  look  elsewhere." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

DOOMED  TO  DIE 

"WAIT  a  minute!"  came  from  the  other  man, 
as  Matlock  Styles  was  on  the  point  of  coming  out 
of  the  vault. 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"I  want  to  get  some  of  that  new  paper." 

"Oh,  you  can  get  there  after  we  have  caught 
our  man." 

"I'll  take  it  now — it  won't  take  a  minute." 

The  man  pushed  his  way  into  the  vault.  He 
took  hold  of  a  box.  Then  he  suddenly  backed 
away. 

"He's  in  there!"  he  gasped. 

"In  there?    Where?" 

"There — on  the  shelf !     Look  out !" 

"Ha!  So  he  is!"  ejaculated  Matlock  Styles. 
He,  too,  leaped  back.  "I've  got  him,  too,  the 
skunk!" 

Both  of  the  counterfeiters  leaped  into  the  pas- 
sageway. Adam  Adams  came  down  from  the 
shelf.  But  the  movement  was  not  swift  enough. 
246 


DOOMED  TO  DIE  247' 

As  he  leaped  towards  the  iron  door,  it  was  banged 
shut  in  his  face.  Then  the  combination  knob  was 
twirled  aYound. 

"Ha !  ha !  That's  the  time  we  caught  you  like 
a  rat  in  a  trap !"  sang  out  the  Englishman  in 
triumph. 

"Sure  it  was  our  man?"  queried  his  companion. 
"I  didn't  get  a  very  good  look." 

"Yes,  it  was  our  man,  the  bloody  villain!" 

"He's  a  slick  one!" 

"So  he  is — but  he'll  not  get  away  again.  Go 
and  tell  the  others  that  it  is  all  right — that  we 
have  him,"  went  on  Matlock  Styles. 

"You  are  sure  he  can't  get  out  of  there?" 

"Not  in  a  hundred  years !  He'd  have  to  blast 
his  way  out  to  do  it." 

"Then  it's  all  right,"  returned  the  other  man, 
and  walked  away  up  the  flight  of  stone  steps. 

"Now,  then,  you  have  come  to  the  end  of  your 
rope,  you  bloomin',  bloody  rascal!"  cried  Mat- 
lock  Styles,  when  he  was  left  alone  in  front  of  the 
vault.  "You'll  not  get  out  of  there  until  I  open 
the  door." 

"Styles,  supposing  we  talk  this  matter  over?" 
suggested  Adam  Adams,  as  calmly  as  he  could. 

"Talk  it  over?    What  do  you  mean?" 

"Let  me  out,  and  I'll  explain." 

"I'll  not  let  you  out." 


248        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

"It  won't  do  you  any  good  to  keep  me  in  here." 

"I  know  better." 

"Don't  think  that  I  am  alone  on  this  case,  for 
I  am  not.  If  you  harm  me,  you'll  take  the  conse- 
quences." 

"Bah!  You  can't  scare  me!  I'm  not  a  baby. 
If  you  weren't  alone,  some  of  your  chums  would 
be  after  you  long  ago.  You  thought  to  run  me 
and  my  gang  down  single-handed,  and  have  your 
praises  sung  in  every  bloomin'  newspaper  of  the 
country!  I  know  your  kind.  But  I've  got  you 
now  like  a  rat  in  a  trap.  And  you'll  get  out  like 
the  rat  does — after  he's  dead." 

"You  won't  talk  then?" 

"No — at  least,  not  now.  Perhaps  I'll  talk  later. 
But  I'll  not  give  you  your  liberty,"  and  thus  speak- 
ing Matlock  Styles  tried  the  door  of  the  vault,  to 
make  -certain  that  it  was  secure,  and  walked  away. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Adam  Adams  felt 
that  he  was  in  a  dangerous  situation — a  situation 
in  which  the  majority  of  men  would  have  given 
up  utterly.  He  still  had  his  lantern,  and  this  he 
lit  once  more,  and  by  its  rays  examined  every 
foot  of  the  vault  in  which  he  was  a  prisoner. 

He  saw  little  that  gave  him  encouragement. 
The  sides  and  flooring  were  of  stone  and  brick, 
well  put  together  and  strong.  The  ceiling  was 
likewise  of  brick,  resting  on  arches  of  iron. 


DOOMED  TO  DIE  249 

"Looks  as  if  I  was  booked  to  stay  here!"  he 
muttered  grimly,  as  he  viewed  the  situation.  "No 
getting  out  as  I  got  out  of  that  other  hole." 

He  noticed  that  the  air  was  not  good,  and  this 
soon  gave  him  cause  for  additional  alarm.  If 
he  could  not  get  any  fresh  air,  he  might  smother 
before  anybody  came  to  release  him. 

Once  more  he  went  over  the  walls  and  the  floor- 
ing, and  even  pounded  on  the  iron  door.  It  was 
all  to  no  purpose.  He  was  as  close  a  prisoner  as 
if  encased  in  a  stone  tomb. 

"Perhaps  they  will  leave  me  here  until  I  either 
smother  or  starve  to  death,"  he  reasoned,  "[t 
would  be  an  easy  way  of  disposing  of  me.  And 
Miss  Langmore  and  Mr.  Case  would  wonder  hotv 
I  came  to  disappear  so  mysteriously." 

He  set  the  boxes  on  the  floor,  and,  standing 
on  one  of  them,  proceeded  to  examine  the  roof- 
ing of  the  vault  more  carefully.  He  found  one 
of  the  iron  arches  a  bit  loose  at  one  end,  and 
pulled  upon  it  with  all  his  might. 

The  result  was  greater  than  he  had  anticipated. 
The  iron  brace  came  down,  and  with  it  fell  sev- 
eral dozens  of  brick,  some  hitting  the  detective 
on  the  legs  and  feet.  He  shrank  back  against 
the  shelves,  and  so  avoided  getting  the  shower  on 
his  head.  The  lantern  was  smashed,  leaving  him 
in  total  darkness. 


250        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

As  soon  as  the  fall  was  over,  he  pulled  the 
boxes  from  beneath  the  bricks  and  piled  them 
one  on  top  of  the  other.  Mounting  as  high  as 
he  could,  he  felt  around,  secured  a  hold  on  some 
bricks  and  stones  above,  and  hauled  himself  up- 
ward. 

"Now  to  get  out  somehow!"  he  told  himself. 
"No  more  lingering  in  this  den  of  criminals!" 

He  felt  around,  as  he  moved  forward.  On  all 
sides  the  walls  were  wet  and  slimy.  He  ad- 
vanced with  care,  resolved  to  avoid  all  pitfalls, 
were  it  possible  to  do  so.  He  was  in  a  place 
where  the  roofing  was  no  higher  than  his  shoul- 
ders, so  he  had  to  stoop  as  he  progressed. 

A  moment  later  he  found  himself  in  a  narrow 
passageway,  with  rocks  on  one  side  and  a  heavy 
wooden  partition  on  the  other.  Through  a  slit 
in  the  partition  a  faint  light  was  streaming. 

Adam  Adams  tiptoed  his  way  to  the  slit  and 
looked  through.  Beyond  he  made  out  the  print- 
ing room  of  the  counterfeiting  plant.  Only  one 
man  was  present,  the  big-boned  fellow  known  as 
Number  Four.  He  was  seated  on  the  corner  of 
a  rude  table,  idly  tearing  some  paper  into  strips, 
and  evidently  thinking  deeply. 

As  the  detective  was  about  to  move  on,  an- 
other person  entered  the  printing  room. 


"Did  they  get  him?"  asked  Number  Four 
eagerly. 

"Yes,"  Vas  the  short  reply. 

"Where  was  he?" 

"You'd  never  guess." 

"At  the  river?" 

"No;  in  the  vault." 

"What !     How  did  he  get  there  ?" 

"Nobody  knows.  He  must  have  found  the 
door  open.  But  its  against  the  rules  for  anybody 
to  leave  that  door  unlocked." 

"I  know  that,"  said  Number  Four,  and  heaved 
a  deep  sigh. 

"Say,  you  don't  like  your  job,  do  you?"  went 
on  the  other  counterfeiter,  with  a  sniff. 

"Would  you  like  it?"  demanded  Number  Four, 
half  angrily. 

"Well,  not  particularly." 

"When  I  joined  this  gang,  I  did  it  to  make 
money,  both  ways.  I  didn't  join  to  kill  folks." 

"Sure,  that's  true.  But  the  fellow  deserves 
what  he'll  get.  He  is  a  spy,  and  when  a  fellow 
spies  on  the  likes  of  us  he  takes  his  life  in  his 
hands — and  he  knows  it." 

"Well,  that  may  be  so.  Just  the  same,  I'm 
sorry  I  drew  the  red  ball,"  went  on  Number  Four. 

"Ain't  going  to  back  out,  are  you?" 


252        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"Humph!  How  can  I  back  out?  Styles 
wouldn't  allow  it." 

"You  bet  he  wouldn't — and  none  of  us  would, 
for  that  matter.  If  I  had  drawn  the  red  ball  I 
would  have  done  what  was  asked  of  me,  and  no 
shirking — and  you've  got  to  do  the  same." 

"I  ain't  shirking,"  growled  Number  Four.  "I'll 
do  my  duty.  But  I  don't  like  the  job,"  and  then 
he  arose  and  left  the  room. 

Adam  Adams  had  moved  on,  too — down  the 
dark  passageway.  Soon  he  came  to  a  place  so 
narrow  that  he  squeezed  through  with  difficulty. 
Here  he  stepped  into  a  nest  of  rats,  and  one  bit 
him  in  the  ankle,  causing  him  to  give  an  involun- 
tary cry  of  pain.  The  rats  were  all  around,  and 
he  had  to  hiss  quite  loudly  to  make  them  keep 
their  distance. 

He  could  now  smell  the  water,  and  knew  he 
must  be  close  to  the  river.  Once  in  the  stream,  he 
felt  that  he  could  swim  to  safety.  But  he  must 
look  our  for  more  traps. 

Another  turn,  and  he  found  the  water  flowing 
at  his  feet.  Far  ahead  was  a  faint  glimmer  of 
light.  He  entered  the  water  and  pushed  for- 
ward. Then,  of  a  sudden,  he  came  to  a  halt.  He 
had  heard  the  sound  of  somebody  rowing. 

The  small  boat  passed,  and  all  became  silent 
once  more.  Again  he  pushed  on,  and  presently 


DOOMED  TO  DIE  253 

reached  a  spot  at  the  edge  of  the  old  mill.  He 
was  under  a  dock.  Close  at  hand  rested  a  row- 
boat,  with  the  oars  across  the  seats. 

"The  boat  for  mine — if  I  can  get  into  it  with- 
out being  seen,"  the  detective  told  himself. 

With  added  caution,  he  waded  around  to  the 
stern  of  the  rowboat,  and  peered  around  care- 
fully. Not  a  soul  seemed  to  be  in  sight,  and,  with 
care,  he  climbed  over  the  stern  of  the  craft. 

"Stop!"  came  a  cry.     "Here  he  is!" 

He  turned  and  leaped  to  the  oars.  As  he  did 
this,  something  whizzed  through  the  air.  It 
struck  him  on  the  head,  and  over  he  went,  across 
the  seats  of  the  boat.  He  clutched  wildly  at  the 
air;  and  then  his  senses  forsook  him. 

"Who  is  it?"  came  another  call. 

"That  rascal  who   escaped!" 

"It  can't  be — he  is  in  the  vault." 

"Come,  see  for  yourself.    Quick!" 

Three  men  came  rushing  to  the  spot,  and  the 
rowboat  was  hauled  close  to  the  dock.  The 
counterfeiters  pounced  upon  Adam  Adams,  and 
by  the  time  he  had  recovered  his  senses,  he  was 
again  a  close  prisoner.  Then  Matlock  Styles  ap- 
peared. 

"He  is  a  wizard!"  ejaculated  the  Englishman. 
"But  he  shall  not  get  away  again!  I'll  guard  him 
myself — until  Number  Four  finishes  him!" 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

TOM    OSTREILO'S    STORY 

ON  THE  following  evening,  at  exactly  seven 
o'clock,  an  old  man  came  to  the  depot  at  Sidham 
and  met  the  incoming  train.  He  was  rather  feeble 
in  his  movements  and  hobbled  rather  than  walked 
to  meet  a  man  who  came  in  with  a  portfolio 
under  his  arm. 

"Excuse  me,  but  is  this  Mr.  Granby?"  he  asked 
in  a  quavering  voice. 

"That's  my  name,"  said  the  new  arrival,  with 
a  slight  start. 

"How  are  the  sketches  getting  along?  I  hope 
you  are  making  a  good  picture  of  my  daughter." 

"Very  good,  I  think,  sir.  If  you  will  come  to 
my  room,  I  will  show  you  my  proof." 

"All  right,  sir,"  answered  the  old  man. 

The  two  men  left  the  depot,  and  crossing  the 
roadway,  walked  to  a  hotel  on  the  next  block. 
They  ascended  to  the  third  floor  and  made  their 
way  to  a  fine  apartment  in  the  front.  Here  the 
door  was  locked,  the  curtains  drawn,  and  the 


TOM    OSTRELLO'S    STORY  255 

gas  was  lit.  Then  both  men  removed  wigs  and 
false  whiskers,  and  there  stood  revealed  Charles 
Vapp  and  Adam  Adams. 

"You  are  on  time,  I  see,"  said  the  latter,  as  he 
dropped  into  an  easy  chair  and  lit  a  cigar. 

"Yes,  I  was  lucky  enough  to  get  your  telegram 
directly  after  it  came  in.  The  trail  took  me  near 
the  office  and  Frank  passed  it  to  me." 

"What  of  the  man  you  have  been  following?" 

"He  is  looking  for  you." 

"Do  you  know  the  reason?" 

"Yes.  He  has  had  several  talks  with  Letty 
Bernard,  and  she  has  advised  him  to  speak  to 
you,  and  tell  you  everything,  whatever  that  may 
mean.  The  girl  told  him  that  you  could  clear 
him." 

"Humph!  She  takes  a  good  deal  for  granted. 
Anything  else?" 

"Do  you  know  that  Margaret  Langmore  has 
disappeared?" 

"So  I  heard,  less  than  an  hour  ago." 

"They  say  she  ran  away  to  escape  trial." 

"Perhaps  so,  but  if  she  did  she  was  out  of  her 
head.  It  is  too  bad,  for  it  complicates  matters." 

"By  your  telegram  I  see  that  you  want  me  to 
turn  to  something  else,"  went  on  Charles  Vapp, 
after  a  pause. 

"I  do."     Adam  Adams   drew  a   long  breath. 


£56        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"Charley,  wonderful  things  can  happen  in  twenty- 
four  hours." 

"I  know  that,  Adam." 

"Last  night  I  was  doomed  to  die.  I  was  in 
the  hands  of  one  of  the  worst  .band  of  evil-doers 
I  ever  ran  across.  They  drew  lots  as  to  who 
should  slay  me — just  as  the  Anarchists  draw  lots 
to  kill  one  who  has  been  marked  by  them." 

"And  you  escaped?" 

"If  I  hadn't  I  shouldn't  be  here.  It's  a  long 
story.  As  luck  would  have  it,  the  foul  deed  fell 
to  the  lot  of  a  fellow  known  as  Number  Four. 
He  was  a  weak-kneed  chap,  and  I  had  previously 
spoken  to  him  about  getting  caught  and  im- 
prisoned, and  I  said  I  would  befriend  anybody 
who  would  befriend  me.  He  was  to  shoot  me, 
tie  my  body  in  a  bag  with  rocks,  and  sink  me 
to  the  bottom  of  the  river.  He  said  he  would 
do  the  job  only  when  alone  and  the  others  took 
him  at  his  word.  When  he  got  me  where  he 
wanted  me,  he  told  his  story.  He  used  to  be 
poor  but  honest,  and  was  once  sent  up  for  a 
theft  that  he  had  not  committed.  The  gang  got 
hold  of  him,  when  he  came  out  of  prison,  and 
he  was  made  to  join  the  band.  He  said  he  did 
not  want  to  kill  anyone,  that  he  was  sick  of  what 
he  had  been  doing,  and  wanted  to  reform.  I 
promised  him  a  thousand  dollars  if  he  would  let 


TOM   OSTRELLO'S    STORY  257 

me  go,  and  promised  not  to  testify  against  him, 
if  he  would  tell  me  all  he  knew.  He  took  me 
at  my  word,  and  sank  a  sack  full  of  grass  and 
stones  to  the  bottom  of  the  river,  instead  of  yours 
truly.  Then  he  came  away  with  me,  told  me 
some  astonishing  things,  took  his  thousand  dol- 
lars; and  I  haven't  seen  him  since,  and  I  doubt 
if  he  will  ever  show  himself  again." 

"You  were  more  than  lucky.  But  what  is  this 
band — if  it  is  any  of  my  business?" 

Adam  Adams  leaned  forward. 

"Don't  breathe  it  to  a  soul,  not  even  at  head- 
quarters," he  whispered.  "I  have  located  a  band 
of  counterfeiters — the  makers  of  that  clever  coun- 
terfeit bill  on  the  Excelsior  National  Bank  of 
New  York.  You've  heard  of  it — the  one  they 
said  was  printed  from  the  Racksburg  plates." 

"Sure,  the  one  Fields  tried  to  run  to  earth  last 
year." 

"The  same." 

"That's  a  big  feather  in  your  cap." 

"In  following  up  one  thread  I  seem  to  have 
gotten  away  from  another.  I  started  out  to  find 
the  murderer  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Langmore.  I 
thought  I  had  a  line  on  one  fellow,  but  it  would 
seem  now  that  he  can  readily  prove  a  complete 
alibi." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 


258        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"I  want  you  to  keep  your  eyes  on  certain 
people  in  and  around  this  town,  and  especially  on 
that  Matlock  Styles.  If  you  see  any  indications 
of  his  running  away,  arrest  him  on  the  spot.  Here 
is  a  list  of  the  men  to  be  watched."  Adam  Adams 
brought  out  a  slip  of  paper.  Then  he  described 
the  old  mill.  "The  counterfeiters'  rendezvous  is 
under  that  mill,"  he  continued.  "They  make  folks 
think  the  place  is  haunted  and  Styles  has  savage 
dogs  on  his  farm  near  by,  and  that  keeps  the 
curious  away.  I  want  you  to  watch  the  mill, 
too,  if  you  can.  But  keep  out  of  all  danger.  If 
any  of  the  gang  try  to  trap  you  shoot  them 'down, 
for  if  they  catch  you  they  won't  be  apt  to  let 
you  get  away  alive.  If  you  wish  get  Strong  to 
help  you." 

"I  understand,  and  I'll  be  on  my  guard,"  said 
the  assistant. 

After  that  the  pair  conversed  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  longer  and  then,  after  making  some 
changes  in  his  disguise,  Charles  Vapp  hurried 
from  the  hotel  and  out  into  the  darkness  of  what 
looked  as  if  it  would  prove  a  stormy  night. 

As  soon  as  Vapp  had  gone,  Adam  Adams  sat 
down  and  penned  a  brief  note.  This  he  sent  out 
by  a  hotel  messenger,  and  then  sank  back  in  his 
easy  chair,  to  smoke  and  to  meditate. 

The  detective  had  learned  much,  yet  about  cer; 


259 

tain  things  he  was  in  the  dark  as  much  as  ever. 
The  mysterious  Number  Four — he  had  not  asked 
the  penitent  for  his  name — had  given  him  the 
names  and  addresses  of  fourteen  men  connected 
with  the  band  of  counterfeiters.  Eleven  of  these 
individuals  were  makers  of  the  bogus  bank  bills, 
and  the  other  three  operated  in  the  big  cities, 
disposing  of  the  "goods"  in  bulk  to  others,  who 
in  their  turn,  fed  the  bad  bills  to  the  general 
public. 

So  far  as  Number  Four  knew,  Matlock  Styles 
was  the  head  of  the  gang,  but  the  man  had  said 
there  was  another  individual,  to  whom  Styles 
often  went  for  advice.  This  man  was  considered 
to  be  very  shrewd,  but  what  his  name  was  there 
was  no  telling.  Number  Four  ventured  a  guess 
that  he  might  be  connected  with  the  United  States 
treasury  department. 

After  his  escape  from  the  den,  Adam  Adams 
had  gone  to  Stony  Hill  in  secret,  and  there  veri- 
fied Matlock  Styles'  story  that  the  Englishman 
had  not  been  near  the  Langmore  mansion  during 
the  time  the  murders  were  committed.  So,  from 
that  crime,  at  least,  the  counterfeiter  was  appar- 
ently cleared. 

But  this  only  made  the  mystery  connected  with 
the  counterfeits  in  the  safe  so  much  deeper.  Num- 
ber Four  had  never  mentioned  Barry  Langmore 


260        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

when  speaking  of  the  members  of  the  gang,  and 
when  questioned  about  the  man,  said  he  had 
known  him  by  sight  and  that  was  all. 

Less  than  an  hour  after  he  had  sent  out  the 
messenger,  there  came  a  knock  on  the  door  and 
Tom  Ostrello  presented  himself. 

"You  are  the  gentleman  that  wishes  to  see 
me?"  he  inquired. 

"I  believe  you  wish  to  see  me,"  was  the  reply, 
as  the  detective  closed  the  door  and  locked  it 
again.  "Sit  down,  Mr.  Ostrello.  I  am  Adam 
Adams." 

"Oh,  I — er — I  didn't  quite  recognize  you  in 
that  dress." 

"I  suppose  not."  There  was  a  brief  pause. 
"Mr.  Ostrello,  if  you  wish  to  speak  to  me,  I  am 
at  your  disposal  for  the  next  hour." 

"Thank  you."  The  young  commercial  traveler 
cleared  his  throat.  "You  are — I  mean,  I  believe 
you  know  the  relationship  between  Miss  Bernard 
and  myself?" 

"She  has  told  me  something  about  that." 

"She  tells  me  you  are  her  closest  friend — that 
you  have  really  been  a  father  to  her  since  her 
own  parent  died.  And  she  tells  me  that  you  are 
one  of  the  greatest  detectives  in  the  world.  I 
wish  I  had  known  that  when  we  first  met — I 


TOM   OSTRELLO'S    STORY  261 

should  have  engaged  you  to  clear  up  the  mystery 
of  this  sad  affair." 

The  young  man  paused  again.  Evidently  it 
was  hard  work  for  him  to  get  directly  at  the 
subject  on  hand.  Adam  Adams  remained  silent. 

"I  did  not  imagine  that  I — well,  that  I  would 
be  connected  with  this  great  crime.  I  mean,  that 
anybody  would  suspect  that  I  had  done  the  deed. 
It  is  a  fearful  thought!  That  I  would  kill  my 
own  mother!  I  know  such  things  have  been  done, 
but  they  must  have  been  done  by  beasts,  not  men. 
I  know  I  should  have  spoken  of  the  visit  that 
very  morning  to  my  mother." 

"Then  you  admit  that  you  called  at  the  house?" 

"Yes." 

"You  were  dressed  in  a  gray  suit  and  wore  a 
slouch  hat,  and  you  entered  by  the  back  way?" 

"How  did  you  learn  all  that?"  cried  the  young 
commercial  traveler  in  astonishment. 

"Never  mind.  In  coming  away  you  slipped 
and  fell,  and  your  hat  dropped  off." 

Tom  Ostrello  nodded.  "I  understand  that 
somebody  must  have  noticed  me  after  all.  I  came 
in  by  the  back  way  because  I  missed  the  train 
for  Sidham,  and  took  that  which  stops  only  at 
Chester.  It  is  a  short  cut  through  the  woods 
from  Chester  Station  to  the  Langmore  place. 


262        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

When  I  came  away  I  had  just  time  enough  to 
catch  another  train  at  Chester,  and  I  was  very 
anxious  to  get  back  to  the  city,  for  I  had  an 
important  engagement  with  one  of  my  customers." 

"I  understand.     Proceed,  please." 

"I  came  to  the  house  for  two  reasons.  In  the 
first  place,  as  perhaps  you  know,  my  brother, 
Dick,  is  a  spendthrift,  and  works  occasionally 
only.  He  got  into  a  scrape  in  Los  Angeles,  and 
telegraphed  me  to  help  him  out  financially.  It 
was  an  old  plea,  but  I  thought  if  I  left  him  to 
himself  my  mother  would  not  forgive  me.  I  did 
not  have  money  enough  to  help  him  by  myself, 
for  my  capital  was  tied  up  in  such  a  fashion  that 
I  could  not  get  at  it.  More  than  that,  I  had  in 
my  possession  two  one  hundred  dollar  bills, 
which  my  mother  had  gotten  from  Mr.  Lang- 
more,  and  both  of  these  were  counterfeits." 

"One  of  those  bills  you  had  tried  to  pass  at  a 
theatre,  eh?" 

"Ha  !  You  know  that,  too !  Then  you  have 
been  following  me  up?" 

"The  United  States  Government  has  been  try- 
ing to  follow  up  those  bills  for  several  years." 

"I  came  to  the  house  and  saw  my  mother.  Mr. 
Langmo're  had  gone  to  the  bank.  There  had 
been  a  family  row,  but  that  was  not  all  of  the 
trouble.  Mr.  Lnnrmcre  was  strangely  excited, 


TOM   OSTRELLO'S    STORY  263 

so  my  morher  said,  and  had  declared  he  was  go- 
ing to  have  somebody  arrested,  before  the  week 
was  out." 

"On  account  of  the  counterfeits?" 

"Either  that,  or  on  account  of  a  patent.  She 
said  he  had  sent  off  several  letters  and  was  also 
going  to  telegraph  to  somebody.  She  said  he  had 
asked  her  to  give  back  the  hundred  dollar  bills, 
and  had  been  much  disturbed  when  she  told  him 
that  I  had  them.  She  took  the  bills  back  and 
gave  me  good  money  for  them,  and  also  gave  me 
two  hundred  dollars  more,  to  forward  to  my 
brother  Dick,  which  I  did,  adding  a  hundred  of 
my  own." 

"Did  your  mother  tell  you  anything  more  about 
the  counterfeits?" 

"No." 

"Did  you  see  Miss  Langmore?" 

"I  did  not,  nor  did  I  see  the  servant.  I  was 
in  a  hurry,  and  so  I  came  away  as  soon  as  my 
business  was  accomplished." 

"When  you  came  away  from  the  house  and 
dropped  your  hat,  did  you  go  back  again,  crawling 
along  by  the  bushes?" 

'"I  certainly  did  not." 

"Did  you  see  any  other  man  around?" 

"Not  there.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  man  when 
I  was  hurrying  through  the  woods  to  the  station." 


264        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

"When  you  came  to  the  house,  after  the 
tragedy,  Mr.  Ostrello,  what  were  you  so  anxious 
about?" 

"You  mean  what  was  I  looking  for?" 

"Yes." 

"A  letter  Dick  had  sent  me.  It  told  about  his 
trouble.  I  thought  at  first  it  might  be  in  the 
library,  but  I  found  it  in  my  mother's  room.  It 
contained  an  account  of  the  scandal  he  had  gotten 
into.  I  did  not  wish  that  scandal  to  become  pub- 
lic property.  I  can  show  you  that  letter  if  you* 
wish  to  see  it." 

"Lately  you  have  had  some  trouble  with  a  man 
named  Matlock  Styles.  What  was  that  about?" 

"It  was  over  a  patent.  I  thought  of  an  idea 
for  a  machine  to  box  up  pills  in  a  new  way,  and 
spoke  to  Mr.  Langmore  about  it.  I  left  some 
papers  with  Mr.  Langmore  and  I  think  Styles 
got  hold  of  them  and  applied  for  the  patent.  We 
had  several  disputes,  and  at  last  he  threatened 
to  get  me  into  trouble  with  the  firm  I  represent. 
He  said  he  had  influence,  and  as  I  didn't  want 
to  lose  my  job,  I  didn't  press  him  about  the  patent. 
He  acts  like  a  farmer,  but  he  is  a  shrewd  fellow, 
and  not  to  be  trusted." 

"You  went  back  to  the  house  lately,  on  the 
sly — told  Mrs.  Morse  you  wanted  some  books." 

"I   admit  it.      I   wanted  to  get  some  of  my 


TOM   OSTRELLO'S    STORY  265 

mother's  private  papers.  Now  she  is  dead,  I  wish 
to  look  out  for  any  share  of  the  estate  that 
may  be  coming  to  my  brother  Dick  and  myself. 
Isn't  that  natural?  It  was  foolish  of  me  to  run 
away  as  I  did,  but — well,  I  was  nervous.  This 
tragedy  has  completely  unnerved  me,  and  I  hardly 
know  what  I  am  doing." 

"How  about  this  bit  of  wrapping  paper?"  and 
Adam  Adams  brought  forth  the  piece  he  had 
found  under  Mr.  Langmore's  safe. 

"I  do  not  know  where  that  came  from,  but 
it  is  evidently  a  part  of  some  of  my  firm's  adver- 
tising. The  first  three  lines  are  the  name  and 
address.  The  last  line  reads,  'Keep  dark'." 

"I  found  this  under  the  library  safe." 

"That  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  Some  time 
ago,  I  remember,  I  got  some  powders  for  Mr. 
Langmore,  for  headaches.  I  remember  the  box 
had  a  wrapper  of  that  sort  on  it.  The  powders 
lose  their  strength  if  exposed  to  the  sunlight.  And 
that  reminds  me,  you — you  think  these  murders 
were  committed  through  the  agency  of  a  Chinese 
powder — yamlang-peholo — a  powder  my  firm 
once  introduced  in  this  country." 

"The   evidence  points  that  way." 

"I  know  of  nobody  around  that  house  who  had 
any  of  the  accursed  stuff,  for  it  certainly  was  ac- 
cursed. I  never  took  any  there — or,  at  least, 


266        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

if  I  ever  did,  I  do  not  remember  taking  it  out 
of  my  grip." 

"Can  you  furnish  me  with  a  list  of  people  who 
received  this  stuff  from  you  or  from  others?" 

"I  can.  On  my  way  to  Sidham  I  made  out 
this  list,  and  here  it  is,"  and  the  young  man 
brought  it  forth. 

Adam  Adams  glanced  at  it  quickly,  and  read 
over  the  long  line  of  names  and  addresses — doc- 
tors, druggists  and  private  individuals.  Suddenly 
he  paused  and  a  smile  of  triumph  lit  up  his 
features. 

"Good!"  he  almost  shouted. 

"You  have  discovered  something?"  asked  Tom 
Ostrello  quickly. 

"Yes,  I  have  discovered  a  great  deal.  I  think 
the  murder  mystery  is  as  good  as  solved." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  MARGARET 

IT  is  said  by  specialists  that  the  human  brain 
can  stand  just  so  much,  and  no  more.  The  ten- 
sion becomes  so  great — something  snaps — and 
then?  The  question  is  one,  hard,  if  not  impos- 
sible, to  answer. 

So  it  was  with  poor  Margaret,  hounded  by  the 
well-meaning  but  ignorant  officers  of  the  law  of 
the  community  in  which  the  double  crime  had 
been  committed.  So  searching  had  been  the  ques- 
tions put,  so  strong  the  accusations,  that  the  rea- 
soning powers  of  the  girl  were  completely  shat- 
tered. She  imagined  herself  guilty — imagined 
herself  being  taken  to  prison,  to  be  hung  or  elec- 
trocuted, and  in  a  hundred  ways  suffered  the 
mental  tortures  of  the  eternally  condemned. 

Then  came  a  change,  when  she  grew  hysterical 
and  laughed  softly  to  herself.  No  !  no !  she  must 
not  let  them  hang  or  electrocute  her!  It  would 
be  too  much  of  a  disgrace !  She  must  escape  such 
a  fearful  fate ! 

267 


268        THE   MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

But  how?  There  could  be  but  one  answer  to 
that  question.  She  must  contrive  in  some  way  to 
outwit  her  enemies — she  must  escape — must  fly 
to  some  place  where  they  would  never  be  able  to 
find  her. 

It  is  said  that  those  who  are  insane  are  usually 
shrewd,  and  so  it  was  in  Margaret's  case.  She 
prepared  to  run  away,  but  she  did  not  allow  the 
nurse  or  the  doctor  to  become  aware  of  what  she 
was  doing.  She  waited  until  the  doctor  had  made 
another  call,  and  then  asked  the  nurse  to  fix  her 
something  special  to  eat. 

"Why,  yes,  I'll  get  whatever  you  wish,  my 
dear!"  said  the  nurse,  and  went  below  to  prepare 
the  food. 

No  sooner  had  the  woman  disappeared  than 
Margaret  leaped  from  her  bed  and  began  to 
dress.  All  of  her  things,  even  to  her  hat,  were 
in  a  closet  of  the  bedroom,  so  this  was  easy. 

"How  shall  I  go?"  she  asked  herself.  She 
knew,  from  the  talk  she  had  heard,  that  a  police- 
man was  somewhere  around,  watching  the  house. 
She  looked  out  of  a  window  and  saw  him,  lean- 
ing against  a  fence,  taking  occasional  sly  puffs 
from  a  pipe  he  held  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand. 

She  did  not  dare  descend  the  stairs.  She 
looked  out  of  the  window.  It  was  not  very  far 
to  the  roof  of  a  porch,  and  against  the  porch  was 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  MARGARET  269 

a  trellis,   with  a  wealth  of  honeysuckle  growing 
upon  it. 

How  she  did  it,  Margaret  could  not  afterwards 
remember.  But  she  crawled  forth  from  the  win- 
dow, and  climbed  down  the  trellis  as  if  it  were  a 
ladder.  The  sweet  scent  of  the  honeysuckle  made 
her  sick,  and  she  came  close  to  falling  in  a  faint 
at  the  foot  of  the  vines. 

Reaching  the  ground,  she  stared  around  like 
a  frightened  fawn  seeking  to  hide  from  the  hunt- 
ers. Then,  without  knowing  why,  she  sped  for 
the  river  bank. 

The  water  looked  cool  and  inviting,  and  for 
several  minutes  the  beautiful  girl  stood  there, 
gazing  steadily  down  into  those  depths.  Should 
she  make  a  leap  and  end  it  all? 

"It  would  be  the  easiest  way  out  of  it!"  she 
moaned  to  herself.  "The  easiest  way,  and  no- 
body would  carel" 

But,  as  she  bent  lower,  she  seemed  to  see  re- 
flected, not  her  own  face,  but  the  face  of  Ray- 
mond. With  a  cry  of  despair,  she  shrank  back 
as  if  struck  a  blow. 

"No  !  no  !  It  will  not  do  !"  she  moaned.  "Not 
that!  Not  that!" 

She  ran  along  the  river  bank  until  she  came 
to  where  a  rowboat  was  tied  up.  On  the  seats 
were  the  oars,  and,  scarcely  knowing  what  she 


270        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

was  doing,  she  leaped  into  the  craft,  untied  the 
painter,  and  took  up  the  oars. 

The  fresh  air  seemed  to  give  her  strength, 
and  she  pulled  on  and  on.  She  grew  thirsty  and 
stopped  to  drink  some  of  the  water  and  to  bathe 
her  face  and  hands.  While  doing  this,  her  hat 
slipped  overboard  and  drifted  away,  but  she  did 
not  notice  this. 

Presently  she  took  up  the  oars  once  more,  and 
rowed  along  the  stream  until  she  reached  a  spot 
where  there  was  an  island.  Here  she  went 
ashore,  hiding  the  rowboat  in  the  bushes. 

It  was  only  a  small  island,  but  in  the  center 
some  boys  had  erected  a  hut  where  they  had  once 
camped  out.  Margaret  dragged  herself  to  this 
shelter.  Her  strength  was  almost  gone  now,  and, 
as  she  dropped  on  a  rude  bench,  her  senses  for- 
sook her. 

She  did  not  remain  unconscious  long,  but  during 
that  time  she  had  a  dream  or  vision.  She  im- 
agined that  she  was  back  home  once  more,  and 
that  her  father  and  her  stepmother  were  alive 
and  well,  and  that  the  bitter  quarrelling  had 
come  to  an  end.  She  sat  up  and  brushed  the  tum- 
bled hair  from  her  forehead. 

"It — it  must  have  been  a  dream!"  she  mur- 
mured. "It  can't  be  true — that  daddy  is  deadf 
I — I  must  go  home  and  find  out !" 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  MARGARET  271 

She  was  surprised  to  find  herself  on  the  island, 
but  the  sight  of  the  rowboat  brought  with  it  a 
memory  of  how  she  had  used  the  craft,  and  once 
again  she  got  in  and  rowed  away. 

This  time  she  headed  for  the  Langniore  man- 
sion, and  it  was  not  long  before  she  came  within 
sight  of  the  well-known  dock  where  her  own  tiny 
craft  still  rested.  She  looked  around.  Not  a  soul 
seemed  to  be  in  sight. 

With  a  cunningness  far  out  of  the  ordinary,  the 
poor  girl  crept  along  the  shrubbery  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  barn.  This  structure  was  locked  up. 
From  the  barn  she  turned  to  the  house,  and, 
watching  her  chance,  she  entered  by  the  cellar- 
way,  which  chanced  to  be  standing  open. 

It  was  dark  and  damp  below  stairs,  and  the 
girl  shivered  as  she  stood  there,  trying  to  make 
up  her  mind  what  to  do  next.  Should  she  go 
right  up  and  try  to  find  her  father?  Supposing 
her  stepmother  was  there,  would  she  try  to  make 
more  trouble? 

Margaret  mounted  the  stairs  and  entered  the 
lower  hall  of  the  house.  The  blinds  were  closed, 
and  all  was  dark.  She  moved  towards  the  room 
where  the  body  of  her  father  had  been  found. 

At  that  moment  the  woman  who  had  been  left 
at  the  mansion  came  from  the  kitchen.  She 
caught  one  glimpse  of  the  girl  and  set  up  a  shriek. 


272        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"It's  a  ghost!"  she  cried.  "A  ghost!  Heaven 
help  me!" 

The  cry  was  so  piercing  and  so  genuine,  it 
roused  Margaret  from  the  stupor  in  which  she 
was  moving. 

"My  father!  He  is  dead,  after  all!  Oh, 
daddy!"  she  screamed,  and  then  turned,  brushed 
past  the  woman,  and  sped  out  of  the  back  door  of 
the  mansion. 

"What's  the  matter?"  came  from  the  policeman 
who  was  on  guard. 

"She — a  ghost!"  stammered  Mrs.  Morse.  "I 
saw  her!" 

"Her?    Who?" 

"Margaret  Langmore!  Or  else  her  ghost!" 
The  woman  had  gone  white,  and  was  shaking 
from  head  to  feet. 

"Where?" 

"Here." 

"When?" 

"Just  now!" 

"It  can't  have  been  the  girl.  She  is  in  bed,  un- 
der the  doctor's  care." 

"But  I  saw  her!"  insisted  the  woman. 

"We'll  take  a  look  around,"  answered  the  guar- 
dian of  the  law. 

They  commenced  the  search,  but  long  before 
this  was  done  Margaret  had  run  back  to  the  river. 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  MARGARET  273 

She  dropped  into  the  rowboat,  and  rowed  off  as 
swiftly  as  her  failing  strength  would  permit. 

"Daddy  is  dead,  after  all!"  she  moaned,  over 
and  over  again.  "And  she  is  dead,  too!  I  re- 
member it  all,  now.  And  the  blood!  Oh,  I  must 
get  away,  or  they  will  hang  me,  or  electrocute 
me!" 

Five  minutes  more  and  the  rowboat  came  to 
grief  on  some  rocks  close  to  the  side  of  the  stream. 
It  commenced  to  fill  with  water,  and  Margaret 
had  to  wade  ashore,  which  she  did,  slowly  and 
deliberately,  like  one  in  a  dream.  Then  she 
passed  into  the  woods.  Coming  to  a  thick  clump 
of  bushes,  she  sank  down  exhausted,  and  there 
merciful  sleep  overtook  her. 

How  long  she  slept,  she  did  not  know.  The 
low  growl  of  a  dog  aroused  her.  She  sat  up,  and 
the  growl  of  the  dog  became  a  heavy  bark. 
Looking  from  out  of  the  clump  of  bushes,  she 
saw  a  mastiff  standing  there,  eying  her  suspi- 
ciously. 

"What  is  it,  boy?"  she  heard  a  heavy  voice 
ask.  "A  woodchuck?  Never  mind  now,  come 
on." 

But  the  mastiff  continued  to  bark,  and  came 
close  enough  to  sniff  at  Margaret's  foot.  She 
essayed  to  draw  back,  but  was  too  weak  to  do  so. 


274        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"Won't  come,  eh?"  cried  the  man.  "What's 
the  bloomin'  reason,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

He  came  closer  and  then  caught  sight  of  Mar- 
garet. For  a  second  he  stared  in  amazement; 
then  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"You!     How  did  you  get  here?" 

"Oh!"  she  fairly,  screamed.  She  recognized 
Matlock  Styles,  and  knew  not  what  to  say.  For 
some  reason  she  felt  as  does  the  bird  in  the  net 
of  the  fowler. 

"This  is  bloomin'  strange,"  went  on  the  Eng- 
lishman. "I  thought  you  were  down  in  the  vil- 
lage, under  the  care  of  the  doctors." 

"I  was,"  she  managed  to  falter. 

"How  did  you  get  here — run  away?" 

"Yes." 

"Why?" 

"I— I  do  not  know.  I — they  have  found  me 
out !  They  are  going  to  hang  me,  or  electrocute 
me !  I — I  couldn't  stand  it !" 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"Oh,  I  know  only  too  well." 

"So  you  ran  away,  did  you?  'Twas  a  bloody 
cute  thing  to  do,  Margaret.  Say,  you're  dress  is 
wet,"  he  went  on  wonderingly. 

"Yes,  I  was  in  a  rowboat  and  had  to  wade 
ashore."  She  looked  at  him  with  a  face  full  of 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  MARGARET  275 

wild  misery.  "Oh,  please  go  away  and  leave 
me!" 

"Leave  you?" 

"Yes!  yes!" 

"I  can't  do  that,  Margaret" 

"You  must!" 

"But  you  are  not  fit  to  be  left  alone.  You're 
sick." 

"Never  mind — only  leave  me!" 

"Better  let  me  take  care  of  you."  And  now, 
having  stopped  the  barking  of  the  mastiff,  he 
came  and  sat  down  by  her  side. 

"No  !  no  !"  She  tried  to  shrink  away,  but  was 
too  weak  to  succeed. 

"So  you  ran  away,  eh?    Are  they  after  you?" 

"I  don't  know.     I — I  suppose  so." 

"How  did  you  get  out  of  the  house?" 

"I  climbed  out  of  a  window,  when  the  nurse 
and  the  policeman  were  not  looking." 

"Bloomin'  clever,  that,"  he  murmured.  His 
eyes  were  watching  her  closely,  and  to  himself 
he  was  saying:  "Gad,  what  a  beauty  she  is,  in 
spite  of  what  she  has  suffered  !" 

"I  am  going  away — far  away!"  she  went  on,  in 
a  low  voice.  "Oh,  I  cannot,  cannot  stay  here." 

"You  can't  travel  in  your  condition,  Margaret." 
He  pulled  thoughtfully  at  his  mutton-chop  whis- 
kers. "You  let  me  help  you." 


276        THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

"You?" 

"Yes.  Come,  give  me  your  arm,"  and  he 
caught  hold  of  her,  as  if  to  assist  her  to  arise. 

"No,  no!  Please  leave  me!"  she  begged.  "I 
can  take  care  of  myself.  Only  give  me  the  chance 
to  get  away!" 

"Margaret !  You  are  out  of  your  mind." 

"No,  I  am  not." 

"I  know  better.  And  I  am  not  going  to  let 
you  go  away.  You  shall  go  with  me." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Styles!     Please  go  away." 

"No,"  he  answered  firmly.  "Come,  you  have 
got  to  go  with  me." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

A  GLASS  OF  POISON 

MARGARET  could  do  nothing  but  stare  at  the 
man  before  her.  He  was  heavy-set  and  powerful, 
and  wont  to  having  his  own  way. 

"Mr.   Styles "   she  began,  but  he  put  his 

hand  over  her  mouth. 

"You  are  sick — out  of  your  head,"  he  inter- 
rupted. "I  know  what  is  best,  and  you  must  do  as 
I  say.  Come  on."  And  he  pulled  her  forward 
by  the  hand. 

"Where  to?" 

"Not  very  far." 

"I — I  do  not  wish  to  go  to  your  home." 

"I'll  not  take  you  there,  don't  fear." 

"You  are  going  to  hand  me  over  to  the — the 
authorities." 

"Never!     Come.     I  won't  hurt  you." 

He  led  the  way  through  the  woods,  across  a 
small  stream  and  past  a   spot  where  some  wild 
berries  grew.    Then  they  struck  a  trail  leading  up 
a  hillside.    The  place  was  new  to  her. 
277 


278        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"I  want  to  know  where  you  are  taking  me," 
she  said  presently,  and  came  to  a  halt. 

"To  a  place  where  you  will  be  safe." 

"That  isn't  answering  the  question." 

"We'll  be  there  in  a  few  minutes,  and  then  you 
can  see  for  yourself,  Margaret.  Cannot  you  trust 
me,  girl?  I'm  not  going  to  hurt  you.  I  love  you, 
and  I'll  do  all  I  can  to  help  you.  Come!"  And 
again  he  made  her  move  on. 

At  last  they  came  in  sight  of  a  tumbled-down 
cottage  on  the  edge  of  what  had  once  been  a 
clearing,  but  which  was  now  overgrown  with 
weeds  and  brushwood.  As  they  came  up,  Mar- 
garet's strength  gave  out,  and  suddenly  she  sank 
down  on  her  knees. 

"All  in,  are  you?"  he  said,  not  unkindly,  and, 
stooping,  he  picked  her  up  bodily.  She  tried  to 
resist/  but  could  not,  and  he  took  her  into  the 
cottage  and  placed  her  on  a  couch. 

"I'll  get  you  a  nurse,"  he  said,  noting  her  ex- 
treme paleness.  "You  need  one." 

"A — a  woman?" 

"Yes." 

"Thank  you,"  she  murmured,  and  then  closed 
her  eyes,  for  she  was  too  far  gone  to  say  more, 
or  to  make  a  move. 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  when  she 
roused  up  once,  more  an  old  woman  was  at  Mar- 


A   GLASS   OF    POISON  279 

garet's  side.  She  had  administered  some  sort  of 
drug — what,  the  girl  did  not  know — and  it  had 
put  her  intro  a  sound  sleep. 

When  Margaret  looked  around  again,  she  was 
surprised  to  see  that  it  was  morning.  She  tried 
to  think,  but  her  mind  was  almost  a  blank.  Out- 
side of  the  broken  window  a  wild  bird  was  singing 
gayly.  She  looked  around.  The  old  woman  was 
not  in  sight. 

She  had  been  put  to  bed,  and  sat  there,  trying 
to  think  for  several  minutes.  Then  she  gave  a 
low  call,  and  the  old  woman  appeared  in  the 
doorway. 

"Come  awake,  have  ye,  miss?"  said  she. 

"Where  am  I?"  asked  Margaret  feebly. 

"You're  safe  enough,  never  fear." 

Margaret  said  no  more  and  the  woman  went 
about  some  little  work.  Presently  the  girl  arose 
and  dressed  herself.  She  felt  much  stronger  than 
when  at  the  home  of  Martha  Sampson,  in  spite 
of  what  she  had  experienced  in  running  away. 
She  sank  down  in  a  rocking  chair,  to  think  matters 
over. 

How  far  was  she  from  Sidham?  She  knew 
she  must  have  come  a  long  distance,  but  could  not 
tell  if  it  was  five  miles  or  fifty.  She  looked  out 
of  the  window,  but  the  scenery  was  strange  to  her. 

As  she  sat  there  she  reviewed  what  had  passed, 


280        THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

her  mind  becoming  clearer  as  she  thought.  She 
remembered  the  scene  at  the  inquest,  and  remem- 
bered how  she  had  fainted,  and  how  Raymond 
had  supported  her  and  taken  her  to  the  nurse's 
house.  Then  she  remembered  how  the  coroner's 
jury  had  accused  her  of  the  terrible  crime,  and 
she  gave  a  deep  shudder. 

"Poor,  dear  father,"  she  murmured.  "Who 
could  have  been  so  wicked  as  to  take  your  life?" 

An  hour  went  by,  and  she  prepared  to  leave 
the  cottage,  when  a  shadow  fell  across  the  win- 
dow, and  Matlock  Styles  appeared.  He  spoke 
a  few  low  words  to  the  old  woman,  and  the  latter 
walked  away. 

As  the  man  entered  the  room,  Margaret  arose 
and  faced  him.  The  Englishman  was  well  dressed, 
and  newly  shaven,  and  wore  a  rosebud  in  his 
buttonhole.  Evidently,  he  had  spent  some  time 
over  his  toilet  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you  up  and  looking  so  well," 
he  said  pleasantly.  "I  was  afraid  your  running 
away  would  hurt  you." 

"I — I  must  thank  you  for  what  you  have  done 
for  me,  Mr.  Styles,"  she  answered. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  Miss  Margaret.  I'd  do 
as  much  for  you  any  day.  I  think  it's  a  bloomin' 
shame  the  way  you  have  been  treated." 

"Well,   I   suppose   it  cannot   be  helped.      But 


A    GLASS    OF    POISON 

I  must  be  getting  back  soon.  You  will  show  me 
the  road?" 

"Dorf't  be  in  a  hurry  to  go.  You're  not  strong 

enough  to  go.  Besides "  the  Englishman 

paused  impressively.  "What's  the  use  of  going 
back?  Don't  you  know  things  look  beastly  black 
for  you?" 

"Perhaps,  but  I  am  not  afraid — now.  I  am 
not  guilty,  Mr.  Styles." 

"Of  course  not!  Of  course  not!  I  knew  that 
from  the  start.  But  things  do  look  black,  no  use 
of  talking.  I  want  to  help  you."  He  came  closer, 
at  which  she  retreated  a  step. 

"Thank  you,  but  I  do  not  see  what  you  can  do. 
I  must  go  back  and  give  myself  up.  I — I  was 
not  myself  when  I  ran  away.  It  was  a  very  fool- 
ish thing  to  do." 

"If  you  go  back,  do  you  know  what  they  will 
do?  They  will  surely  hang  you?" 

"Oh,  merciful  Heaven?     Do  not  say  that!" 

"I  wouldn't  if  it  wasn't  so.  But  I've  been  talk- 
ing to  the  coroner  and  the  chief  of  police,  and 
they  have  all  of  the  evidence  as  straight  as  a 
string." 

"I  am  innocent." 

"I  feel  that  you  are,  and  that  is  why  I  side 
with  you.  Besides,  you  know  my  feeling  for  you. 
I've  loved  you  for  a  long  time — I  told  you  so 


282        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

before."     He  took  hold  of  her  arm.     "If  you'll 
do  what  I  wish,  I'll  see  to  it  that  you  escape- 
that  you  are  never  bothered  any  more." 

"How  can  you  do  that?" 

"Never  mind  how  it  can  be  done.  Promise 
to  give  up  Case,  and  be  my  wife,  and  I  will 
attend  to  all  of  the  rest.  And  I'll  promise  you 
more  than  that.  Listen,  do  you  know  that  I  am 
immensely  wealthy?  It  is  so,  and  I  can  easily 
prove  it.  Look  here."  He  drew  a  big  roll  of 
bank  bills  from  his  pocket,  each  bill  of  a  large 
denomination.  "I  have  ten  thousand  dollars 
here.  It  shall  be  yours  for  the  taking — if  you 
will  marry  me.  I  can  easily  raise  five  times  this 
amount  in  forty-eight  hours.  We  can  go  to 
Europe,  or  Australia,  or  anywhere  we  wish.  Isn't 
that  far  better  than  to  stay  here,  to  be  hung  by  a 
lot  of  country  bumpkins,  who  don't  understand 
the  matter  at  all?" 

She  put  up  her  hands,  and  waved  him  away. 
Then  she  burst  into  tears. 

"Don't  speak  so,  please  don't!  I — I  cannot 
bear  it,  I  have  gone  through  so  much  already!" 

"Won't  you  listen  to  reason?"  Matlock  Styles' 
face  darkened.  "I  am  giving  you  everything  I 
have,  my  wealth,  my  honor,  everything!  Can  a 
man  do  more  than  that?  I  love  you — love  you 
more  than  Raymond  Case  ever  did,  or  will." 


A   GLASS    OF    POISON  283 

She  wrung  her  hands  and  his  dark  eyes  seemed 
to  pierce  her  very  soul.  She  felt  faint  and  sank 
on  a  bench. 

"Come,  will  you  accept,  Margaret?" 

"No,  no,  I  cannot!" 

"But  think  of  what  is  before  you." 

"If  I  tried  to  escape,  they  would  soon  be  on 
my  track " 

"No,  I  can  prevent  that." 

"How?" 

"Because  the  world  will  know  that  you  are 
innocent." 

She  gave  a  start  and  looked  at  him  wildly, 
pleadingly. 

"Then  you  know  the  real  murderer?"  she 
panted. 

"If  I  answer  that  question,  will  you  become  my 
wife?" 

Again  she  shrank  back. 

"You  know  the  murderer,"  she  repeated. 
"Perhaps  you  committed  the  foul  deeds  yourself." 

He  took  a  step  back  as  if  struck  a  blow.  Then 
he  recovered  quickly  and  smiled  a  bitter  smile. 

"No,  I  was  not  near  the  place,  I  can  prove  it. 
Besides,  your  folks  and  myself  were  on  good 
terms.  There  is  somebody  else,  who  was  around 
the  house  when  the  affair  happened — somebody 
you  know  well,  a  person  who  would  know  all 


about  the  drug  with  which  your  father  and  Mrs. 
Langmore  were  killed." 

"Who  was  it?" 

"Will  you  consent  to  marry  me?" 

"Tell  me  first." 

"No,  afterwards." 

"You  are  fooling  me." 

"I  swear  I  am  not,  Margaret.  Marry  me,  and 
I  will  clear  you  as  surely  as  the  sun  is  shining." 

"And  if  I  refuse?" 

He  came  and  caught  her  by  the  arm,  his  face 
blazing  with  sudden  passion. 

"Do  not  dare  to  do  that!  Don't  you  under- 
stand the  matter?  You  are  in  my  power — in  my 
power  absolutely.  I  can  hand  you  over  to  the 
police  whenever  I  will." 

"That  will  not  be  such  a  hardship.  I  said  I 
was  going  back." 

"Bah!  If  I  tell  them  that  I  caught  you,  that 
you  begged  me  to  let  you  get  away — that  you 
even  said  you  would  marry  me,  if  I  would  aid 
you,  what  then?  Everybody  will  think  you  guilty, 
and  Raymond  Case  will  never  come  near  you 
again." 

"You — you  monster!" 

"Perhaps  I  am  a  monster  when  aroused.  You 
had  better  think  this  matter  over." 

"I  do  not  want  to  think  it  over.     My  mind  is 


A   GLASS    OF    POISON  285 

made  up.  I  shall  never  marry  you,  never,  no 
matter  what  happens.  I  loathe  and  despise  you !" 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  and  his  dark 
face  turned  a  sickly  white  and  then  red.  He 
breathed  heavily  through  his  set  teeth. 

"You  mean  that?"  he  said  finally,  his  eyes 
shining  like  those  of  a  serpent. 

"I  do." 

He  glared  at  her  steadily.  Then,  in  a  burst  of 
rage,  he  caught  her  by  the  throat  and  threw  her 
backward  to  the  floor.  She  offered  no  resistance, 
and  pausing  in  his  madness  he  realized  that  she 
had  swooned  away. 

"Fainted!"  he  hissed  between  his  set  teeth. 
"I  wish  she  was  dead!  Curse  her  and  her 
beauty!" 

He  waited,  and  as  she  did  not  return  to  con- 
sciousness, he  picked  her  up,  and  placed  her  on 
the  bed.  Then  he  hurried  outside : 

"Go  back  to  the  house,"  he  said  to  the  old 
woman.  "You'll  not  be  needed  here  any  more.- 
And  see  that  you  keep  your  jaw  closed  over  this," 
he  added  harshly.  And  the  woman  slunk  away 
as  if  struck,  like  a  dog. 

Once  inside  of  the  cottage,  he  took  up  a  glass 
of  water  standing  on  the  table,  and  to  this  added 
a  powder  taken  from  his  pocket,  stirring  it  up 


286        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

well.  Then  he  looked  around  to  see  that  there 
was  no  other  water  around  the  building. 

"When  she  rouses  up  she  will  be  dry,  and  she 
will  drink  this,"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "Half 
a  glass  will  do  the  work  and  she  will  never  bother 
me  or  anybody  else  any  more." 

He  paused  again  and  took  from  his  pocket  sev- 
eral sheets  of  paper,  closely  and  carelessly  written 
upon  in  pencil.  The  first  sheet  was  headed: 

Dying  Confession  of  Margaret  Langmore. 

"A  fine  forgery,  if  I  do  say  so  myself,"  he 
mused.  "Mat,  you  always  were  a  plum  with  the 
pen.  I'll  add  a  line  telling  where  she  can  be 
found  and  then  send  it  to  the  coroner.  That  will 
be  better  than  leaving  it  around  here.  She  might 
find  it  before  she  drank  that  dose."  He  paused 
again.  "Perhaps  she  won't  drink  it  after  all.  I'll 
give  her  some  of  it  now,  and  make  sure." 

He  raised  up  the  almost  lifeless  girl,  and  forced 
open  her  lips.  Then  he  took  the  glass,  and  poured 
half  the  contents  down  her  throat.  She  spluttered, 
but  swallowed,  and  he  let  her  form  drop  back  on 
the  bed.  He  was  in  a  cold  perspiration  now,  and 
in  sudden  fear,  he  fairly  rushed  out  of  the  cottage 
and  down  the  hillside  in  the  direction  of  his  home. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

RAISING    THE    CURTAIN 

As  SOON  as  his  interview  with  Tom  Ostrello 
was  at  an  end,  Adam  Adams  asked  the  young 
man  to  leave  him. 

"I  am  going  to  follow  up  this  clew,"  he  said. 
"And  the  quicker  the  better." 

He  looked  over  a  valise  he  carried  and  selected 
a  number  of  things  he  wanted.  Midnight  found 
him  at  the  depot,  boarding  a  train  for  Fairfield. 
At  the  latter  place  he  changed  and  took  another 
train  for  Bryport.  Arriving  at  that  city,  he  lo- 
cated at  a  hotel,  and  went  to  bed. 

He  was  up  at  sunrise  and  procured  an  early 
breakfast.  Then  he  returned  to  his  room  and 
spent  a  full  hour  in  donning  another  outfit  and 
in  powdering  his  face,  and  adjusting  a  wig  and 
a  reddish  moustache. 

The  same  car  that  had  taken  him  to  the  vicinity 
of  John  Watkins'  residence  before,  took  him  there 
again.  As  he  approached  the  house  he  saw  the 
secret  service  man  coming  forth. 

287 


288        THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Watkins,  but  I  must  see  you," 
said  he,  in  a  low  and  suggestive  tone. 

"To  see  me?"  questioned  the  man.  "What 
about?" 

"Well,  I  must  see  you  alone.  The  sky  may 
be  rather  red,  you  know." 

At  the  last  words  the  secret  service  man  started 
slightly.  "That's  true,  and  /  don't  like  a  red  sky," 
he  answered.  "Come  into  the  house.  You  just 
caught  me  in  time." 

He  led  the  way  inside  and  up  to  his  den,  closing 
and  locking  the  door  after  him. 

"Now,  then,  what  do  you  want  to  see  me 
about?"  he  demanded  sharply. 

"Don't  you  recognize  me?" 

"I  must  say  I  do  not,  although  your  face  seems 
familiar." 

"I  am  Number  Four." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  Adam  Adams  studied 
the  face  before  him  closely. 

"Well?"  came  from  the  secret  service  man 
coldly. 

"There  has  been  trouble,  Mr.  Watkins.  Mat- 
lock  Styles  sent  me  to  you." 

"The  dickens  you  say.  What  right  has 
he " 

"He  had  to  do  it.     Things  are  getting  warm." 

"He  should  have  come  himself." 


RAISING  THE   CURTAIN  289 

"He  couldn't  do  it.  The  detectives  are  shad- 
owing every  movement  he  makes.  He  didn't 
even  dare  to  drop  you  a  letter." 

"What's  the  cause  of  the  trouble?" 

"Those  queers  in  the  safe." 

"Then  the  authorities  got  them?" 

"Yes,  and  they've  sent  down  some  New  York 
detectives,  who  are  watching  everybody." 

"Bah!     Styles  must  be  getting  nervous." 

"He  told  me  to  tell  you  something  more.  They 
found  something  else.  It's  about  the  poison  pow- 
der that  was  used.  .  You  made  some  kind  of  a 
mistake " 

John  Watkins  leaped  to  his  feet  and  turned 
pale. 

"I  made  a  mistake?"  he  cried.  "How?  For 
Heaven's  sake,  man,  tell  me  all!"  He  went  to  a 
cupboard,  got  out  some  brandy  and  drank  a  stiff 
portion. 

"That  is  what  Styles  wants  to  find  out.  He 
thinks  you  put  out  some  clews  that  point  to  him. 
He  says  if  you  did  he  will  blow  you  sky-high. 
He  wants  the  truth  from  you,  and  he  wants  it 
right  away." 

"Clews?  Against  him?  He  is  crazy.  I  never 
put  out  a  single  clew  against  him.  Why  should 
I?  Wasn't  it  arranged  that  we  should  fix  it 
against  the  girl,  and  didn't  I  even  go  to  the 


290        THE  MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

trouble  to  spy  on  Langmore  and  get  the  combina- 
tion of  the  safe — although  it  didn't  do  any  good. 

And  then  after  the  job  was  done,  didn't  I " 

The  secret  service  man  came  to  an  abrupt  stop, 
as  if  fearing  he  had  said  too  much.  "Look  here, 
did  he  tell  you  all  this,  or  is  this  some  game?" 

"Hey!"  exclaimed  Adam  Adams,  pretending 
to  be  amazed.  "Did  he  tell  me.  See  here,  I 
don't  care  if  you  are  the  boss,  I  am  not  going  to 
run  the  risk  of  being  sent  up  for  twenty  years  for 
you.  I  came  to  help  Styles  out,  that's  all.  I  had 
the  devil's  own  job  getting  out  of  Sidham  without 
being  followed.  To-morrow  I  am  going  to  take 
my  money  and  move  West.  You  won't  trust  a 
fellow,  and  yet  you  expect " 

"Never  mind,  Pink,  don't  get  on  your  ear  so 
quick " 

"Ain't  I  got  a  right  to  get  on  my  ear?  You 
go  and  poison  two  people  and  then " 

"Who  said  I  did  the  poisoning?"  John  Wat- 
kins  was  plainly  agitated. 

"Didn't  Styles  tell  all  of  us?  He  wasn't  going 
to  have  those  clews  pointing  to  him.  He  says  you 
bungled." 

"He  is  a  calf!"  roared  John  Watkins.  "Where 
is  the  nerve  he  used  to  have?  So  he  told  all  of 
you  that  I  did  the  job,  eh?  Well,  I'll  square 
things  with  him  for  that." 


RAISING  THE   CURTAIN  291 

"He  wouldn't  care  if  you  hadn't  made  some 
sort  of  a  botch " 

"I?  A  botch?  Say,  don't  you  believe  what  he 
tells  you,  because  it  isn't  true!" 

"Well,  he  says " 

"I  don't  care  what  he  says.'  I  didn't  do  the 
job,  and  I  am  not  going  to  let  him  shift  the  re- 
sponsibility on  my  shoulders.  He's  a  fool.  Don't 
everybody  think  the  girl  is  guilty,  and  if  they  clear 
her  isn't  there  another  string  to  the  bow?" 

"You  mean  Tom  Ostrello?" 

"That's  it.  So  he  told  you  about  that,  too," 
came  from  the  secret  service  man  bitterly.  "Well, 
he  isn't  the  man  I  thought  he  was.  I  suppose  he 
has  gone  and  blabbed  right  and  left." 

"Only  to  the  band.  We  knew  something  was 
on  the  carpet  and  we  cornered  him  and  then  he 
had  to  speak.  Why,  one  of  the  New  York  de- 
tectives found  our  place  under  the  old  mill,  and 
we  had  to  do  him  to  keep  the  thing  a  secret." 

"You  got  him  out  of  the  way?" 

"Yes." 

"Did  Styles  do  that  job?" 

"No.  We  had  to  draw  lots.  I  ain't  saying 
who  drew  the  red  ball." 

"Maybe  you  drew  it  yourself." 

"Maybe  I  did  and  maybe  I  didn't.  What  I 
want  to  know  is :  What  are  we  to  do  ?  The  crowd 


THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

don't  like  Styles  much,  and  I  can  tell  you  confi- 
dentially, that  for  two  pins  we  would  throw  him 
over — that  is,  if  you  will  stand  by  us." 
"You  want  to  elect  a  new  leader?" 
"Yes.  But  with  the  understanding  that  the 
crowd  is  to  be  let  in  on  the  ground  floor  after 
this.  No  more  working  in  the  dark.  Even  yet 
we  don't  know  why  those  murders  were  com- 
mitted, and  yet  it  looks  as  if  all  of  us  might 
suffer,  unless  you  pull  us  through  O.  K." 
"Didn't  Styles  tell  you  why?" 
"No,  although  he  hinted  at  something." 
"Well,  I'll  tell  you,  Pink,  and  you  can  tell  the 
rest.  Barry  Langmore  had  some  dealings  with 
Styles  about  patents  and  mortgages.  One  day 
Styles  drank  a  little  too  much,  and  went  to  Lang- 
more  to  pay  a  bill.  He  had  two  packages  of 
money  with  him,  each  for  several  thousand  dol- 
lars. One  package  was  good  money  and  the 
other  was  our  own  brand.  Styles  also  had  some 
loose  bills  with  him.  He  paid  part  of  a  mort- 
gage and  also  something  on  an  invention.  When 
he  went  away,  he  saw  that  he  had  made  a  mis- 
take and  given  Langmore  the  counterfeit  bills. 
He  went  back  the  next  day,  but  Langmore  had 
gone  away,  on  a  short  vacation.  When  he  came 
back  Styles  went  to  him  and  they  had  a  pretty 
stormy  scene.  Langmore  had  tried  to  pass  a  bill, 


RAISING  THE   CURTAIN 

and  learned  it  was  a  counterfeit.  Styles  pretended 
that  he  didn't  know  the  money  was  bad,  but  Lang- 
more  wouldn't  believe  him.  Some  of  the  money 
had  gone  to  Mrs.  Langmore,  too.  Styles  begged 
to  get  the  money  back  and  offered  Langmore  his 
rights  in  an  invention  if  only  Langmore  would 
keep  quiet.  Langmore  said  he  would  think  it 
over,  but  I  am  inclined  to  think  he  communicated 
with  the  police  instead,  although  I  have  no  proof. 
Anyway,  we  made  up  our  minds  that  Langmore 
knew  too  much,  and  so  did  his  wife.  Then — well, 
they  were  found  dead,  that's  all." 

"And  you  say  you  didn't  commit  the  deed?" 

"I  did  not." 

"Then  Styles  must  have  done  the  job,  since 
there  was  no  one  else." 

"Didn't  he  tell  you  that  he  can  prove  an  alibi ! 
That  he  was  over  to  Stony  Hill  at  the  time  the 
deed  was  done?" 

"Yes,  but  if  that  is  true,  then  you  arc  guilty. 
You  got  that  poison  from  Henry  Bloom,  and  he 
told  Tom  Ostrello  that  he  let  you  have  it.  There 
is  where  you  blundered.  Ostrello  and  others  are 
on  your  track.  You  can't  escape  unless  you  can 
prove  an  alibi,  too." 

Again  John  Watkins  shrank  back  as  if  struck 
a  blow. 


294       THE  MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

"Who — who  told  this — who  says "  he  be- 
gan hoarsely. 

"Matlock  Styles." 

"Then  he  can  go  to  perdition!  I'll  not  stand 
up  for  him  a  minute  longer.  Yes,  I  got  the 
poison,  but  I  gave  it  to  him.  I  can  prove  it  by 
the  old  woman  who  works  for  him,  if  I  have  to 
wring  her  neck  to  make  her  speak.  She  heard 
me  tell  him  how  to  use  it.  He  trusts  her,  be- 
cause he  has  her  where  the  hair  is  short.  She 
killed  a  child  years  ago,  when  she  ran  a  baby 

farm.  And  then  about  that  alibi "  The 

secret  service  man  laughed  bitterly.  "So  that's 
his  game,  if  it  comes  to  a  showing  of  hands? 
Well*  I  can  put  a  spoke  in  his  wheel.  He  was 
at  Stony  Hill,  was  he?  Well,  so  was  I.  I  can 
prove  that,  too." 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  the  secret 
service  man  took  another  drink  of  liquor.  He 
was  plainly  very  nervous.  With  great  delibera- 
tion, Adam  Adams  drew  from  one  pocket  a 
pistol,  and  from  another  a  pair  of  handcuffs. 

"The  scene  is  ended,  Mr.  Watkins,"  he  said 
coolly.  "I  want  you  to  slip  on  those  and  come 
with  me."  And  he  threw  the  handcuffs  on  the 
table,  and  leveled  the  pistol  at  the  fellow's  head. 

The  man  staggered  and  threw  up  his  hands, 


RAISING  THE   CURTAIN  295 

half  expecting  a  shot.  He  suddenly  began  to 
tremble,  as  if  with  the  ague. 

"Whai  do  you  mean?  Wh — who  are  you?" 
he  faltered. 

"I  am  Adam  Adams.  I  believe  we  have  met 
before." 

"Adams!"  The  secret  service  man  sank  back 
in  an  armchair.  "And  you — you  are  here  to 
arrest  me?" 

"Exactly.  As  I  said  before,  the  whole  game 
is  up.  Inside  of  half  an  hour  you  will  be  safe 
in  prison,  and  then  we  shall  round  up  such  other 
members  of  the  gang  as  are  still  at  large.  Unless 
you  want  to  make  a  confession,  you  will  have  to 
stand  trial  for  the  murder  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Langmore." 

"Never!  I'll— I'll  tell  all  I  know  first!"  The 
man's  lips  were  white  and  his  eyes  full  of  com- 
mingled rage  and  fear. 

"You  will  make  a  clean  and  clear  statement?" 

"Yes." 

"Clearing  up  the  murder  mystery?" 

"Yes." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

LIGHT  AT  LAST CONCLUSION 

As  SOON  as  Adam  Adams  returned  to  Sidham 
he  communicated  with  the  chief  of  police,  and 
with  several  other  persons,  and  also  sent  two  tele- 
granjs  to  New  York.  He  tried  to  find  Charles 
Vapm  but  could  not  locate  his  assistant. 

The  detective's  plans  were  laid  with  care  and 
he  gave  the  posse  of  men  under  him  minute  in- 
structions as  to  what  to  do.  In  the  midst  of 
the  work  Raymond  and  Tom  Ostrello  appeared. 

"Let  me  go  along,"  said  Raymond.  "I  want 
to  do  my  little  towards  rounding  that  gang  up." 

"And  so  do  I,"  came  from  the  young  com- 
mercial traveler. 

"You  may  go  as  far  as  Styles'  farm,  if  you 
wish,"  said  Adam  Adams.  "But  why  not  look 
for  Miss  Langmore  instead?" 

At  this  Raymond's  face  grew  troubled. 

"We  have  looked  everywhere "  he  began. 

"As  you  please." 

296 


LIGHT   AT  LAST— CONCLUSION      297 

It  was  not  long  after  this  that  a  portion  of 
the  party  set  out,  to  be  followed  presently  by 
the  rest.  The  men  did  not  keep  together,  but 
scattered  in  a  wide  semicircle,  and  then  in  a 
circle,  which  completely  surrounded  the  Styles' 
farm,  and  the  old  mill,  and  its  vicinity. 

As  they  approached  the  farm  they  saw  the  man 
called  Bart  come  out,  and  walk  towards  the  barn. 
He  was  promptly  arrested  by  Adam  Adams  and 
was  asked  where  Matlock  Styles  could  be  found. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  answered  sullenly.  "I  don't 
know  why  you  are  arresting  me.  I  haven't  done 
anything  wrong." 

"We'll  see  about  that  later,"  returned  the  de- 
tective, and  when  the  man  wanted  to  blow  a 
whistle  he  carried,  promptly  prevented  it,  and 
took  the  whistle  away.  Then  the  man  was  com- 
pelled to  quiet  the  dogs,  which  he  did  with  bad 
grace. 

In  the  kitchen  of  the  house  they  found  the  old 
woman,  who  gave  a  cry  of  alarm  when  told  that 
she  must  give  herself  up  to  the  law. 

"Sure,  I  didn't  have  anything  to  do  with  it!" 
she  wailed.  "I — I  didn't  touch  the  young  lady!" 

"What's  that?"  cried  Raymond,  stepping 
forward. 

"I  didn't  touch  the  young  lady,  sir.  I  offered 
her  something  to  eat,  that's  all." 


298        THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

"Can  she  mean  Margaret?"  whispered  Tom 
Ostrello. 

"Where  did  you  meet  Miss  Langmore?"  de- 
manded Raymond  sharply. 

"Up  at  the  old  cottage  on  the  hill.  I — I  didn't 

take  her  there.  It  was "  She  stopped  short. 

"I  can't  tell  you.  Mat  would  kill  me,"  she 
whined. 

"See  here,  tell  all  you  know,"  came  sternly 
from  Adam  Adams.  "I  know  you.  You  once 
ran  a  baby  farm,  and  a  baby  died,  and  I  know 
how." 

The  old  woman  gave  a  shriek  and  fell  on  her 
knees,  rocking  to  and  fro. 

"I  knew  it!  I  knew  it  would  come!  It  can't 
be  hid  any  longer!  Yes,  I  did  it!" 

"Where  is  Miss  Langmore?"  demanded  Ray- 
mond impatiently. 

"At  the  cottage  on  the  hill.  Mat  took  her 
there.  He's  in  love  with  her.  Oh,  dear!  Oh, 
dear!"  she  began  to  rock  to  and  fro  again.  "I 
knew  it  would  come !  Murder  will  out,  they  say !" 

"Take  us  to  that  cottage  and  be  quick  about 
it,"  said  Raymond.  "Will  you  go  along?"  he 
asked  of  Adam  Adams  and  Tom  Ostrello. 

They  said  they  would,  and  set  off  without  delay. 
It  was  rather  a  long  walk  and  the  old  woman 


LIGHT  AT  LAST— CONCLUSION      299 

was  out  of  breath  when  they  reached  the  build- 
ing near  the  top  of  the  hill. 

"Watch  her,"  said  the  detective  to  Tom  Os- 
trello,  and  he  and  Raymond  entered  the  cottage. 
As  they  did  so,  they  stumbled  over  a  person  lying 
on  the  floor. 

"Margaret!"  burst  out  the  young  man  and 
caught  his  sweetheart  in  his  arms.  Then  he  gave 
a  gasp,  and  staggered  with  his  burden  to  the 
bed.  "She  is  dead!" 

"Dead!"  ejaculated  Adam  Adams.  "You  are 
certain?"  He  placed  his  ear  to  her  heart.  "No, 
she  still  lives." 

"But  what  does  this  mean?  Margaret!  Mar- 
garet! Speak  to  me!  What  has  happened  to 
you?" 

The  girl  offered  no  reply,  nor  did  she  open  her 
eyes.  She  rested  on  him  and  on  the  bed  like  a 
leaden  weight.  He  kissed  her  fondly,  a  great 
agony  filling  his  soul. 

Adam  Adams  looked  around  the  room.  On 
the  table  rested  a  glass,  with  a  dirty  substance 
at  the  bottom.  He  tasted  the  stuff.  It  was 
sweetishly  bitter.  He  ran  outside. 

"Tell  me  at  once,  did  Matlock  Styles  say  any- 
thing about  poisoning  this  young  lady?"  he  de- 
manded, catching  the  old  woman  by  the  arm. 
"The  truth  now,  remember!" 


300        THE   MANSION   OF   MYSTERY 

"No,  he  didn't  say  anything.  But  he  had  some 
poison,  a  powder — you  put  it  in  water.  It  kills 
a  person  in  six  to  ten  hours,  sure." 

"We  must  have  a  doctor!" 

Tom  Ostrello  had  heard  the  talk  and  saw  what 
had  happened. 

"I'll  get  a  doctor,  if  you'll  watch  the  old 
woman.  I  can  get  a  horse  at  Styles'  farm." 

"Do  it,  and  hurry!"  cried  Raymond.  "Take 
the  best  horse  and  bring  the  doctor  at  once.  Tell 
him  it  is  poison — a  powder  in  water.  Offer  him 
any  amount  of  money " 

"I  will!"  Ostrello  shouted  back.  He  was  run- 
ning down  the  hill  path  with  the  swiftness  of  a 
college  sprinter.  In  a  moment  the  bushes  hid 
him  from  sight. 

Adam  Adams  was  talking  to  the  old  woman. 
"You  know  about  the  poison.  Is  there  nothing 
we  can  give  her  to  counteract  the  effects?  Do 
something,  and  I'll  not  be  so  hard  on  you  when 
you  stand  up  for  trial." 

"I  can  do  nothing.  But  wait,  yes,  I  can  I  Make 
a  fire,  and  boil  some  water!" 

She  ran  to  the  back  of  the  cottage  and  to  some 
bushes  growing  close  at  hand.  With  her  bare 
hands  she  dug  at  the  roots  and  tore  them  up, 
stripping  off  the  bark  with  her  teeth.  Adam 


LIGHT  AT  LAST— CONCLUSION      301 

Adams  comprehended,  and  lit  a  fire  and  set  on 
the  kettle  to  boil.  Then  the  roots  were  placed  in 
the  bojling  water. 

"Make  her  drink — it  will  do  her  good,"  said 
the  old  woman.  "I  swear  it  will  help,  at  least  a 
little — until  the  doctor  comes."  And  with  shak- 
ing hands,  she  poured  the  concoction  she  had 
made  into  a  saucer  to  cool. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  get  Margaret  to 
swallow,  but  after  a  while  it  was  accomplished, 
and  her  heart  appeared  to  beat  a  trifle  more 
steadily.  But  still  she  did  not  rouse  up  or  open 
her  eyes,  and  Raymond  was  as  depressed  as 
before. 

"We  can't  overcome  the  effects  of  the  drug," 
he  groaned.  "Oh,  if  only  the  doctor  would 
cornel" 

"Give  her  some  more,"  said  the  old  woman. 
"Give  her  all  of  it,"  and  this  was  done. 

Slowly  the  time  dragged  by,  until  they  heard 
a  shouting  in  the  distance,  followed  by  a  pistol 
shot.  Then  two  horses  burst  into  view,  one  rid- 
den by  Ostrello,  and  the  other  by  a  doctor  who 
iived  not  a  great  distance  away. 

"I  will  do  all  I  can,"  said  the  physician,  as  he 
leaped  to  the  ground.  He  set  to  work  at  once, 
meanwhile  questioning  the  old  woman  regarding 


802        THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

what  had  already  been  done.  "That  was  all 
right — it  has  helped  to  put  the  patient  into  a 
perspiration  and  keep  up  the  heart  action." 

"Another  doctor  is  also  coming,"  said  Ostrello 
to  Raymond  and  the  detective. 

"In  that  case  I'll  join  my  men,"  came  from 
Adam  Adams.  "By  that  pistol  shot  something 
must  be  doing.  I  will  be  back  later.  See  that 
that  old  woman  does  not  get  away."  And  he 
was  off. 

Something  was  indeed  doing.  The  old  mill  had 
been  surrounded  and  the  chief  of  police  had  en- 
tered the  building,  followed  by  several  other  men 
of  the  party.  The  counterfeiters  were  taken  by 
surprise,  but  they  did  not  give  up  at  once.  Some 
began  to  fight,  and  in  the  melee  two  were  seriously 
wounded.  Then  all  but  three  surrendered,  these 
three  doing  what  they  could  to  get  out  by  a 
back  way.  One  of  the  three  was  Matlock  Styles. 

The  three  men  came  out  in  the  woods,  and 
one  was  quickly  shot  in  the  leg,  and  fell  head- 
long among  the  trees.  Seeing  this  the  second 
man  shouted  that  he  would  surrender,  and  threw 
up  his  arms  as  a  signal. 

"You  bloomin'  fool!  I'll  not  surrender!" 
cried  Matlock  Styles,  and  ran  on,  through  the 
woods,  and  up  the  hill  that  led  to  the  cottage. 

He  was   still   some   distance   off,   when  Adam 


LIGHT   AT  LAST— CONCLUSION       303 

Adams  saw  him  coming.  The  detective  had  his 
pistol  in  his  hand. 

"Stop,  Styles,  or  I'll  fire  on  you !"  he  called  out. 

For  an  answer  the  Englishman  raised  his  own 
pistol  and  fired  point  blank,  the  bullet  cutting 
through  the  loose  flap  of  Adam  Adams'  coat. 
Then  the  Englishman  went  down,  with  a  bullet 
in  his  left  side.  When  Adam  Adams  ran  up  to 
him  he  was  twisting  and  breathing  heavily. 

"You've  done  me  up,  hang  you!"  he  gasped. 
"Oh,  if  I  only  could  get  at  you  I"  and  he  tried 
to  crawl  towards  his  pistol,  but  Adam  Adams 
promptly  kicked  it  out  of  the  way. 

"You're  down  and  out,  Styles,"  said  the  de- 
tective. "It  won't  do  you  any  good  to  squirm. 
You're  in  the  hands  of  the  law." 

"What  for,  counterfeiting?" 

"That  and  worse." 

"Worse?" 

"Yes,   a  good  deal  worse.     Murder!" 

By  nightfall  all  of  the  prisoners  were  either  in 
the  jail  or  at  the  hospital  at  Sidham.  Some  of 
the  secret  service  authorities  from  New  York 
had  arrived,  and  to  them  Adam  Adams  turned 
over  the  case,  so  far  as  it  related  to  the  coun- 
terfeiters. 

"I  did  not  start  out  to  round  up  such  a  gang," 


304        THE   MANSION  OF   MYSTERY 

he  said,  in  speaking  of  the  affair  to  Mr.  Breslow1 
some  days  later.  "I  came  here  to  clear  up  the 
murder  mystery." 

"But  you  get  the  credit,  Adams,"  said  the  head 
of  the  secret  service  detail.  "And  you  deserve  it. 
But  do  you  think  you  are  going  to  convict  Mat- 
lock  Styles  of  the  tragedy?" 

"It's  a  sure  thing.  The  alibi  won't  bother  me, 
for  I  can  now  prove  it  was  a  bogus  one.  John 
Watkins  got  the  poison  for  him,  and  promised 
to  impersonate  him  at  Stony  Hill,  while  the  crime 
was  being  committed.  He  did  it,  but  I  have 
found  two  people  who  thought  it  was  not  Styles 
after  all.  Watkins  himself  is  willing  to  testify 
that  he  did  the  impersonating." 

"How  did  they  happen  to  use  that  strange 
powder?" 

"Watkins  got  it  from  a  friend  of  his,  who 
afterwards  mentioned  the  fact  to  Tom  Ostrello. 
When  Styles  got  it  I  suppose  he  thought  the  use 
of  it  might  throw  suspicion  on  Ostrello,  which  it 
did.  Then  suspicion  was  also  throAvn  on  Miss 
Langmore,  so  that  the  general  public  might  get 
tangled  up." 

"Did  Styles  write  that  note,  which  was  sup- 
posed to  have  been  written  by  Mr.  Langmore, 
saying  she  must  obey  or  leave  the  house?" 

"Yes.    He  is  an  expert  penman,  and  most  likely 


LIGHT  AT  LAST— CONCLUSION      305 

a  regular  forger  as  well  as  counterfeiter.  He 
only  made  a  mistake  when  he  drank  too  much." 

"Did  Watkins  know  any  of  the  details  of  the 
murder?" 

"Yes.  After  it  was  over,  Styles  came  to  him 
and  told  his  story,  being  half  drunk  at  the  time. 
He  said  he  left  home  and  came  through  the 
woods,  where  he  saw  Tom  Ostrello  just  coming 
from  the  Langmore  mansion.  As  soon  as  the 
coast  seemed  clear,  he  ran  past  the  bushes  and 
got  in  the  house  by  a  window.  He  found  Mr. 
Langmore  in  the  library  and  asked  again  for  the 
counterfeits.  Langmore  said  he  was  going  to 
give  them  to  the  authorities,  and  expose  Styles. 
Then  the  Englishman  said  he  would  explain,  and 
Langmore  sat  down  in  his  chair  to  listen.  Styles 
turned  around,  took  some  cotton  from  his  pocket, 
and  saturated  it  with  the  powder,  and  sprang  at 
Langmore  from  behind.  The  victim  struggled 
and  got  his  face  scratched  from  the  Englishman's 
ring.  Langmore  was  no  match  for  his  assailant, 
and  in  a  minute  the  murder  was  done.  Then 
Styles  ran  upstairs.  He  knew  the  servant  was 
in  the  barn,  and  he  heard  Miss  Langmore  playing 
on  the  piano  in  the  parlor.  He  met  Mrs.  Lang- 
more  just  coming  from  her  room.  She  was  scared, 
but  before  she  could  scream  or  resist,  he  gave 
her  what  was  left  of  the  powder  and  she  fell 


306       THE  MANSION  OF  MYSTERY 

over  where  she  was  found.  Then  he  stepped  out 
of  an  upper  window  to  the  top  of  the  piazza 
and  dropped  to  the  ground,  and  came  away  across 
the  brook  and  through  the  woods." 

"Then  you  are  bound  to  convict  him.  What 
of  Watkins?" 

"I'll  use  him  as  a  witness  against  Styles  in 
the  murder  trial  and  then  you  can  have  him  tried 
as  a  counterfeiter.  The  old  woman  will  also 
prove  a  good  witness.  She  is  so  old,  and  has 
promised  to  reform,  so  there  is  no  use  of  our 
pushing  a  charge  against  her.  The  rest  of  the 
crowd  will  all  get  what  they  deserve.  I'm  glad 
we  got  the  bogus  printing  plates." 

"Have  you  heard  anything  of  the  Langmore 
estate?" 

"Yes.  Mr.  Langmore  left  his  wife  her  legal 
share,,  and  the  balance  to  his  daughters,  Mar- 
garet getting  a  little  the  larger  portion.  Mrs. 
Langmore  leaves  her  money  to  her  sons,  one- 
fourth  to  Dick,  the  spendthrift,  and  three-fourths 
to  Tom.  I  have  also  rooted  out  some  papers 
among  Styles'  effects,  which  will  give  Tom  Os- 
trello  his  patent  back,  and  also  give  some  patent 
rights  to  Mr.  Langmore's  estate.  I  can  tell  you, 
Matlock  Styles  was  a  deep  one.  It  was  only  once 
in  a  great  while  that  he  drank  and  bungled." 


LIGHT  AT  LAST— CONCLUSION      307 

"Well,  the  greatest  of  criminals  have  their 
weak  spots,  you  know  that  as  well  as  I  do.  Styles, 
I  suppose,  also  got  up  that  bogus  confession, 
signed  in  Miss  Langmore's  name." 

"He  did.  When  he  found  the  girl  wouldn't 
marry  him,  he  was  wild  and  ready  for  any 
treachery." 

"And  how  is  the  girl  doing?" 

"I  am  going  to  see  now." 

When  out  on  the  street,  Adam  Adams  ran  into 
Tom  Ostrello,  arm  in  arm  with  Letty.  He  was 
amazed  for  an  instant,  and  then  his  face  broke 
into  a  smile. 

"I  just  couldn't  help  it,  Uncle  Adam!"  cried 
the  girl.  "I  had  to  come  here  to  congratulate 
Tom  on  his  escape." 

"Well,  I  don't  blame  you,  Letty.  Yes,  it  has 
turned  out  well  for  you.  I  hope  it  turns  out  as 
well  for  Miss  Langmore  and  Mr.  Case." 

Margaret  was  again  at  Martha  Sampson's  cot- 
tage. When  the  detective  entered  he  heard  a 
murmur  of  voices  in  one  of  the  'upper  rooms.  He 
ran  upstairs,  to  find  the  girl  sitting  up  in  bed  and 
Raymond  by  her  side.  The  young  man's  face 
was  filled  with  happiness. 

"Come  in!  Come  in!"  he  cried  joyously.  "She 
has  come  around  all  right,  Mr.  Adams.  She 


is  a  little  weak  still,  but  the  doctor  says  she  will 
be  well  as  ever  in  a  week  or  ten  days.  The  good 
news  has  braced  her  up  wonderfully." 

"And  all  due  to  you,  Mr.  Adams,"  said  the 
girl.  "Oh,  how  can  I  ever  thank  you  enough?" 
She  clasped  his  hand  warmly.  "You  are  so 
good!" 

"This  is  certainly  famous,"  he  replied,  sitting 
down  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  "It's  the  best  news 
yet.  I  have  just  left  one  happy  couple  and  here 
I  find  another." 

"You  mean  Tom  Ostrello  and  that  young  lady 
from  your  office?"  asked  Raymond.  And  then, 
as  the  detective  nodded,  he  went  on:  "I  met  them, 
and  I  asked  them  to  come  here.  Margaret 
wanted  to  see  them." 

"I  wish  Tom  to  know  that  I  want  to  be  friends, 
always,"  said  Margaret.  "We  have  had  enough 
of  trouble  in  the  family.  And  when  he  gets 
married,  I  want  to  be  friends  with  his  wife,  too." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that,  for  I  know  it  will 
please  Letty  and  she  is  a  good  girl.  It  may 
be Here  they  come,  now!" 

A  minute  later  the  newcomers  were  ushered 
into  the  sick  room,  and  the  two  girls,  who  had 
never  met,  were  introduced  to  each  other.  It  was 
a  happy  meeting  all  around,  and  the  lovers  were 


LIGHT  AT  LAST— CONCLUSION      809 

all  as  devoted  as  lovers  can  well  be.     Seeing  this, 
Adam  Adams  thought  it  about  time  to  leave. 

"I  anf  going  now,"  he  said,  and  stopped  at  the 
door. 

"So  soon?"  asked  Margaret. 

"Yes,  I  have  another  important  case  on  hand," 
answered  Adam  Adams. 

"Another  case  ?"  queried  Tom  Ostrello.  "Well, 
I  wish  you  luck,  I  am  sure." 

"We  all  do,"  chimed  in  Raymond. 

"What  is  it?"  queried  Letty. 

Adam  Adams  smiled  broadly.  "As  you  are 
no  longer  connected  with  the  office,  I  cannot  tell 
you,"  he  said. 

"Maybe  I  can  guess  it!"  cried  Raymond.  "The 
disappearance  of  John  Darr — the  case  all  New 
York  is  talking  about?" 

Adam  Adams  smiled  faintly.  "YouVe  struck 
it,"  he  said.  "It  is  a  wonderful  case,  and  will  de- 
mand all  of  my  attention.  But  I'll  be  back  to- 
morrow. In  the  meantime,  I  want  you  all  to 
remember  that  you  owe  me  an  invitation." 

"An  invitation  to  what?"  asked  both  girls,  in  a 
breath,  and  knowing  perfectly  well  what  he  meant. 

"An  invitation  to  the  weddings,  when  they 
come  off." 

"Oh!"  came  in  a  little  feminine  shriek. 


310       THE   MANSION   OF  MYSTERY 

"Well,  you  get  them,"  said  Raymond. 
"Indeed,  he  does,"  said  Tom. 
And  he  did. 


THE   END, 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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